


"I lose control..."

by my_thestral



Series: You're Worth It [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Band Fic, Hate to Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_thestral/pseuds/my_thestral
Summary: Teddy Lupin has always ever wanted one thing: to belong. Er, to the Potter-Weasley clan, to be precise. Good and proper. But by the twist of fate Scorpius Malfoy gets there before he does, and not only does that blond git invade the family that should be every right be Teddy's, he also "infiltrates" himself in a band that is practically Teddy's life! That evil, talentless bastard. Or is he?





	1. One chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Severus1snape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severus1snape/gifts).



> I was lamenting to my friend Nia Kantorka the other day about not being able to write anything properly for weeks (too busy and exhausted) and then I sort of got mad at myself for allowing something as lousy as tiredness stop me from doing the thing I love best. I was done with such half-assery! ;) So I wrote the first chapter of the story with a pairing I promised to my Scandinavian bestie [Severus1snape](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Severus1snape) eons ago - sorry for such a belated present, hon, I have nothing to say in my defence other than - better late than never? *sheepish grin*  
> Please bear with me, as this is my first attempt with this pairing and it's most likely a bit crap - I wasn't too inspired to be honest. I owe the fact that it at least looks like a proper form of English to the mastermind of all things proper English, the one and only [TheMightyFlynn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn) \- thanks, darling, I wish I knew how to repay you! :)  
> The song title is from the song "You and I" by the German band Scorpions. How very fitting, isn't it? :)  
> All the lyrics used in this story are of course property of their owners and I'm just a fan, showing my admiration. Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

“Merlin’s naked balls, Hugo… What is _he_ doing here?!”

The words just jump out of my mouth. It’s either that or letting my jaw hit the floor. I glance around the room incredulously, checking if anyone else thinks it outright _mad_ for Hugo to bring an outsider to our little shrine without clearing it with anyone first. To our band’s practice, of all things.

I mean, the basement of twelve Grimmauld Place – an old, transformed dungeon, really – is our holy ground, our safe haven, and, among other things, the rehearsal hole for our aspiring band. No one but the kids of the Potter-Weasley clan have access to it, and I’m secretly immensely proud of being the only honorary exception. No one else is allowed, and I mean _not one fucking person_. We even make my godfather Harry announce himself, and he owns the damn place!

Hugo’s dad Ron helped us set up the same sort of insulation that keeps the Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes, their infamous shop for pranks, intact for years – which means we could probably have the Hogwarts Express running through here without anyone noticing. After we’d decorated it the way we saw fit, with everyone bringing in their favourite junk to make it homey, cosy, and colourful, we bribed Hugo’s sister Rose, who is a prodigy in charms and hexes, to help us place a pack of wards on the door, vicious enough to knock out any would-be intruder for hours. I _love_ it here. I’ve always considered it my home away from home, packed with my favourite things, and my favourite people, doing the things I love best.

So, it makes perfect sense that Hugo bringing a guest feels like _such_ a violation to me. I guess wards have yet to be invented against the one-man-blasting-curse that is Hugo Weasley. No wards in the world would do against someone who’s been _invited_ and Hugo knows that very well. But did he have to invite _him_?! Scorpius bloody Malfoy… that… snot’s son! I can almost feel the hair on my head turning an angry red.

Honestly, I would find it easier if Hugo dragged some random chick in! Well, truth be spoken, Malfoy doesn’t look much like he wants to be here, and… oh, bloody hell, it looks like the mad, ginger fucker might have literally dragged him in: he’s still holding him by the hand! What was the redheaded menace thinking?! Oh, scratch that, no one knows what goes on inside Hugo Weasley’s marvellous brain – and I sure as hell don’t want to! I’m sure it’s a proper jungle of mad and wonderful up in that fiery head, but this time he took it too far. Oh, to hell with him… how could he?

But of course, Hugo is Hugo; just as unperturbed and cool as always. Honestly, I love the boy to bits, but he’s just a bloody machine, nothing gets through to him. I swear, he could get hit by a killing curse and he’d just shrug it off! Everything – criticism, good advice, angry orders, or honest-to-god pleading – it all just washes off him! He cuts through everything in his way, determined, focused and ambitious. I usually love that about the borderline-mad, ridiculously stubborn, and gorgeous-as-fuck young man, because he’s the reason our little band is going places. But at this moment... at this moment I might just hate him a little.

As laid-back as Hugo most cunningly likes to appear, he simply shoots me one of those infuriatingly blissful smiles that always manage to unhinge me a little, and shrugs casually.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Lupin,” he says softly. “I’ve got my reasons. You know he’s got the right to be here now.”

And that kind of knocks the wind out of me, I confess. I’m sure I look just as miserable and flabbergasted as I feel, because I spot Al roll his eyes and glance at Hugo nervously, while the blond intruder at Hugo’s side sighs and murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like: _“I tried to tell him this was not a good idea…”_

“Chill it, Ted,” Jamie, my best friend in the whole wide world, unexpectedly weighs in from behind his drum kit, hitting a cymbal forcefully as if he wants to make sure I got the point. “Hugo is right. It’s not like he doesn’t have the right to be here. He’s family now.”

Oh, fuck it, Jamie… seriously? You, too? But sadly, that’s exactly the essence of the fucking problem. Malfoys are family now. Of course, they were always _my_ family – Scorpius’s grandmother Narcissa and my own grandma Andy… Andromeda are sisters, after all – but we never sought contact with one another, and I never cared to be attached to them much. The Potter-Weasley family, however… they are my favourite family in the whole world, and the one clan I was always desperate to belong to. I know that having Harry Potter as my godfather should have been enough, as it allowed me to spend as much time with the crazy Weasley-Potter bunch as if I was born right into their midst – but the truth is… I’d always wanted more.

Don’t get me wrong, Grandma Andy is great and Harry could not have done his duty as a godfather better, but I… I suppose growing up without proper parents had somehow made me crave the safety net of having a large, actual family that was mine. By choice, by law; in any way I could have it… and for all times. As a child I’d spent long hours obsessing over and fearing what would become of me if something happened to Harry. Which it could: as the head of the Auror department my godfather has a dangerous job! The thought bothered me immensely. Would I still matter to any of them? Would I still be allowed to visit? Would they still care? Harry was my one connection to the wonderful, safe, loving world of the Potters and Weasleys – and it felt so fragile.

I wanted more. I craved a deep, proper connection with the one family that always made me feel right at home. It was the kind of hunger that made my heart ache in an inexplicable way every time I had to leave. It made me want to call the Potters and the Weasleys my own; made me want to belong. I would never let anyone know how desperate I was to be one of them – but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t willing to go to certain… lengths to get there.

I made a most desperate move when Harry got privately, and very amicably, separated from his wife a couple of years ago. They haven’t quite made it official to this day, and they still attend many of the social functions side-by-side –  as they’ve remained the best of friends – but for me, that separation triggered a top-notch alert. The fact that I thought it a good idea to start dating Victoire Weasley, with her werewolf-bitten father and her quarter-Veela mother, can tell you enough about my sort of panicked madness. Luckily, Victoire was an angel, and a smart one at that, so when she figured out I didn’t have a straight bone in my body – well, uhm, maybe one, improvised, occasionally – she put on a show of our break-up being mutual, us being too young to know what we wanted; you know, that sort of rot. That was a month ago, and I haven’t had any better idea on how to attach myself to the Weasley-Potters more permanently since.

But Scorpius Malfoy… that bastard just got there without even trying, didn’t he?!

People were still loudly debating whether it was a hex or some other suspicious mischief that made Ronald Weasley, an esteemed war hero, throw the wizarding world into a massive uproar about a year ago by unexpectedly divorcing his wife of twenty-five years – and not just any bland wife, but a wife who was a Minister of Magic, for that matter! – only to promptly propose and – wait for it! – _marry_ his old school nemesis, Draco Malfoy. Yes, _marry_. Yes, _that_ Draco Malfoy, the distinguished pure-blood and former Death Eater who deals in exclusive and terribly overpriced potions’ ingredients these days. And who just happened to have become “conveniently widowed” a couple of years ago, as the infamous reporter Rita Skeeter instantly labelled it. Yeah – I know, you couldn’t make up something like this up if you tried, right?

The scandal was immediate, overblown, and seemed never-ending. That bitch Skeeter was having a field day, one after another, dragging this “dirty” detail upon that “scandalous” detail of their relationship out in the open – true or false, it didn’t matter to her – and when she was done with the so-called facts, she switched to rumours and insane assumptions.

But the Potter-Weasleys just did what they did best – and what made me love them so: they closed their ranks and stood as one for one of their own. On a rare occasion when Skeeter actually managed to overhear Ron Weasley “… _that insensitive heartbreaker and terrible adulterer, stated nonchalantly with a dumb smile on his brutish, freckled face: “I just wanted to be happy”, before he dug straight into an obnoxious display of obscene kissing with his new husband as if he was completely unaware how scandalous and inconsiderate their actions were.”_  

And I happen to know for a fact that Hugo’s dad, against all odds, manages to be genuinely happy with the Malfoy chap. We all knew that they’d been reluctant business partners for decades as it was impossible not to hear them shouting immature insults at each other if one was standing anywhere in Diagon Alley at any time they had a business meeting. But they were both in need of rare ingredients for their shops, and thus compelled to work together… until it was no longer just work. It seemed like the years of their constant banter and childish jabs eventually resulted in enough pent-up passion that _“we were either going to kill each other on the spot or fuck each other stupid and senseless”_ , as I once overheard Ronald himself confess bluntly to his best mate, my godfather Harry, while still wearing that blissful, smitten expression he never seems to be without anymore.

And as hard as I found it to believe it myself at first, that blond snot actually seems to be head-over-heels in love with “his Weasel” as well. Long-gone are Draco Malfoy’s days of walking about with a cold, composed expression as if he owns and despises the world at the same time; these days he is mostly a flushed, starry-eyed, melted mess, who seems permanently attached to his husband’s face in one way or another. Seriously, one would think they’d get tired of snogging each other blind sooner or later. I mean, I almost overdosed from it just watching them! But the old fossils seem to have inexhaustible reserves of shameless craving between them, and they just won’t let up. Those years of pent-up tension really must have been something…

But after the initial shock and disbelief subsided, everyone just seems to have come to terms with _“the madness of King Ronald”_ , as his brother George calls it behind his back. Even though Ron’s mother Molly still sometimes meets them with puffy eyes, and appears intent on running out of the room as soon as she spots Draco, rather than Hermione, standing next to Ron in the doorway – trying to fish for a kiss or two as he would these days – the Potter-Weasley family in general adopted a unanimous _“I’m happy if they’re happy”_ sentiment. So, the Malfoys were gradually incorporated as family, everyone is jolly, and I… I’ve been miserable and… jealous. There, I’ve said it.

As far as I am concerned, Scorpius Malfoy just hit the jackpot without even playing, in more ways than one. Not only are he and his snotty father welcome at the family gatherings, he somehow passed the silent _Hugo Weasley approval test_ and won himself a fierce ally. Now, one might think I just made this test up on the spot, but the Hugo Weasley approval test is a very real thing in the Weasley-Potter family: if Hugo doesn’t want you there, you won’t be. As simple as that. Sometimes, it might take a bit of time for the more resilient candidates, but mostly, it’s a matter of hours, and they all run away screaming in the end. Seriously, I’ve yet to meet a person Hugo could not chase away; the only Weasley sorted into Slytherin can be a right vicious bastard if he chooses to.

Look, I know it’s childish, but perhaps… perhaps I was a bit disappointed that Hugh didn’t go after Malfoy and his son. If anyone stood a chance of blowing this whole marriage calamity up, it was Hugh. His dad adores him and thinks the world of his opinion. Surely Ron Weasley would have listened to his son if he protested against such a mad… rash… unprecedented decision. But somehow, it didn’t happen. Perhaps Hugo just likes seeing his dad so obviously, undoubtedly happy, or perhaps he has some other utterly insane, hidden agenda – as he would. Sometimes it makes me wonder, though… he _did_ seem a little _too_ enthusiastic about his dad marrying the Malfoy plague – could it be it’s all a part of his scheming?

Nah, that’s… even for him… nah, I’m probably just paranoid… Yet, the fact remains that Hugo never does anything halfway. Not only did he not move a muscle to get rid of the Malfoys – he seemed to have taken an instant liking to the idea of a step-brother. He’s taken Scorpius under his wing from the very first day their fathers moved in together, and he’s been showering him with attention ever since. The way it looks, he positively adores Scorpius, and as shy and reserved as the skinny blond git always comes across, it’s impossible to miss the radiant smile he always has ready for his vibrant hurricane of a brother-by-marriage.

Rose casually mentioned once that Scorpius had always wanted a sibling, several even, as he grew up very lonely, and Hugo took the job gladly and very seriously. One can rarely be seen without the other these days. They’d always chat about something quietly, chuckle – or roar with laughter, in Hugo’s case – and Malfoy just seems so damn _pleased_ in his company. It’s quite maddening, really, because… oh, damn, because I would love to be in his place. All I ever wanted was to belong. You know, to fit in somewhere with _them_ , but it was Scorpius Malfoy who got there with no merit of his own… and I didn’t. It isn’t very hard to hate him right now, standing in our sacred basement. As far as I’m concerned, he’s trespassing… and fuck me if I know what to do about it!

I feel the heat of frustration rising in my cheeks and I gulp down a curse quietly. If there’s even an odd, tiny chance that this bonding between families was indeed Hugo’s doing, as I suspect, the Malfoys aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. And suddenly a tiny droplet of fear sinks down my angry chest like a leaden tear, and I nearly freeze: am I really up to making Hugo and his cousins chose between me and an intruder such as Scorpius Malfoy? I mean, I might come out on top… but then again… Malfoy is family and I… shit.

I need to calm the fuck down. Maybe I’m reading too much into this. Maybe Hugo’s agenda isn’t more elaborate than to casually introduce Malfoy to our music that plays such a vital part in our lives. He’s always been super proud of us as a band and of what we’ve achieved, not to mention very engaged in our future, and perhaps there’s just no way around it… Yeah… that has to be it. Still, it doesn’t do any harm to double check… just to be sure.

“So, what is he doing here?” I ask, hoping against hope I don’t sound too sulky but rather engaged and firm, simply pointing out the fact that one is expected to have a good reason to be here.

“He’s our new singer for the Christmas gig,” Hugo explains matter-of-factly, as if he just let a bit of fresh air in.

_The fuck… what?!_

~

Oh, just look at him. Oh, holy crap. Shit on a stick, anyone? I never should have let Hugo talk me into this. I knew this was going to happen. Ted is so peeved off he can’t even talk. His hair-colour is going from his regular purple to fiery red in a flash, and to the deep glittering blue, only to explode in flames again. In short, it’s changing more rapidly than the Muggle neon-sign above a stripper-bar… what?! I had, er, a quick course in Muggle studies, courtesy of Hugo, I’ll have you know… It was, uhm… interesting.

Right… so I just dodged a flying drumstick…. Apparently, Ted’s magic is unpredictable when he’s livid. God, he’s gorgeous… Even like this – angry, frustrated, and… territorial? – yeah, even like this he is. And perhaps I should just quit lying to myself: this is why I’m here. This is why I let Hugo change my mind… because he didn’t really have to change anything, just help my pride and my rationality give into my heart’s pleading. Years of it.

Yup, you’ve heard that right. I’ve had a crush on Edward Lupin, informally known as Teddy, since I first saw a much older blue-haired boy joke around the Platform 9 ¾. I literally couldn’t take my eyes off him. From the lonely colourless existence of my first eleven years, I suddenly encountered a flash of light, colour and life in the form of one boy so bright and breath-taking that I still haven’t recovered eleven years later. I only saw him around the school during that first year, and after that whenever chance would have it. But I kept waiting for September first every year on pins and needles to see if I was going to see him again. And, sure enough, he never let me down. He only seemed to grow more handsome every year and my fascination with him never waned.

My heart just… flutters in my chest at the sight of him. What used to be a child-like infatuation had turned into a proper teenage obsession, and now that I see a lot more of him, I regret to report this that particular madness of mine doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. It’s just… so much more intense now, and joined by… _ohgod_ … embarrassingly carnal fantasies of the worst sort that make me think of him day and night.

Father told me that very first time on the train station who Ted was, so I knew that if things were different, we could have been close. He could have been the company I so badly craved in the lofty loneliness of Malfoy Manor, but it never happened and Teddy Lupin never gave me – much younger and shunned for my surname – the time of day. I didn’t blame him. It was a miracle he didn’t outright hate me. He’s lost his mum and dad because of that stupid Voldemort venture my father took part in, albeit unwilling. How could I blame him if he chose to ignore me? I’ve grown accustomed to the idea of only admiring him from afar, but then Father just lost it one day and finally – god-fucking-finally! – fucked Ron Weasley after decades of being bonkers about him. Before I knew it, they were married and Hugo came into my life.

And Hugo… yeah, he’s a… oh, man, he’s really something, you know? He could go around selling ice to Eskimos, yeah? He can make anyone believe anything is possible. He read right through me at the very first family dinner, manipulated me – er, as in _got me drunk like an ape_ , all right? – so I somehow ended up spilling out my feelings for Ted… and the rest is history. Here I am. But maybe… I shouldn’t be? This looks like a _seriously_ bad idea from where I stand. Ted appears quite ready to do a _Reducto_ on me.

Just look at his flabbergasted, devastated face staring at Hugo as if he had just stuck a knife into his chest. Hugh told me how hard he’s trying to belong and it must be such an insult to him to see _me_ simply walk in here… fuck, this was a major mistake. I never should have come. Up until now, Teddy Lupin ignored my existence. But, judging by this hurt, angry look he just shot me, he’s ready to hate me from now on.

“Now, don’t be a drama queen about this, Ted,” I hear Hugo explain as casually as if he didn’t just rock Ted’s boat hard enough to throw him off it.

Everyone who knows Hugo even in the least knows there’s a quiet warning in there somewhere. My fiery half-brother came prepared – and… well, as much as I’m smitten with Ted, I don’t think Lupin can win this.

“Remember my graduation at the Oxford… never mind… at that Muggle University I attended for the last four years? I’ve just got the news that it’s on Friday and I’ve got to be there. And – I’m sure you remember that bit – we’ve also got that super-important gig at the Holyhead Harpies’ seasonal opening to play… yes, I know that one is on Friday as well. I can’t move one or the other – and I’ve got to be at both. Since the time-turner is, er, not so much in the Ministry’s good graces these days, I clearly can’t be at two places at the same time, and I had to choose. So, I got you a replacement for the gig on Friday: Scorpius here kindly agreed to help me and take my place. And just you wait! He’s such a fan of our music, and he’s got talent to boot. He’s just too fucking perfect, you’ll see. He’s…”

“ _Perfect_?! How is he _perfect_ , Hugo?!”

Oh, great… fucking great. Ted’s shouting now, and I don’t know he even realises it…

“Has he ever sung in a band, then?! Not every fucking sissy willing to swing their hips at the crowd is going to fit in, you know!”

Now, that… hurt, I’ll have you know.

“I know every song you ever wrote,” I hear myself speak, and I confess I even shock myself a little, especially with how cool and even a bit stand-offish I sound. I always thought I’d be a stuttering, quivering mess when I at last spoke to him – you know, just the way I am on the inside – but apparently, I’m a snotty, stuck-up, proud Malfoy through and through. Who knew?

“That’s not what singing is about!” he shouts yet again, finally turning towards me.

Much to my surprise, I realise that not only can Teddy Lupin change his hair colour – apparently his eye-colour is a subject to his emotions as well. Right now, it’s the disconcerting amber of a lion’s eyes. Gulp.

“Any damn fool can learn the lyrics. It’s about having the vibe, communicating with the crowd, having the right type of voice – and frankly, _Malfoy_ , I don’t think you’re it.”

Well, damn… Looks like my chance – the tiny, shy hope of making an impression – was never more than an empty dream my desperate heart had made up. He just spat out my name as if it was an insult. I can almost feel my own shoulders sagging in defeat.

“Says an expert on the voice he’s never heard!” snaps the ice-cold voice to my left and strong fingers are suddenly gripping my hand like a vice.

Oh, blimey. Hugo. I nearly forgot about him. And judging by the tone of his voice, he’s mightily pissed off. Oops.

“Hugo, you know I’m right…” Ted tries stubbornly, but some of that amber colour fades into hazel, which seems to be the natural colour of his eyes. Oh, damn… it’s lovely…

“Ted Lupin, how dare you!” Hugo suddenly barks, and his voice sounds so very much like that of his mother, the notoriously intimidating Minister Hermione Granger, that everyone freezes a little, myself included.

“You need to stop with this terrible insecurity right now. _Right now_ , Ted! Because it’s ruining _everything_. You’ve been a member of this family for as long as I’ve known you. A _rightful_ member, in case you still doubt it, because the relationship between the godfather and his godchild is as sacred as it comes. And that, Teddy, is not about to change. No one can take this from you, mate. No one wants to,” Hugo speaks in a softer tone, looking Ted straight in the eye with those bluest of blue eyes that can steal anyone’s heartbeat.

Surely enough, I can see Teddy press his lips together to hold back some unspoken emotion, and his hair turns deep violet. He’s incredibly fragile right now, I can tell, but I know if anyone can do this, Hugo can. I’ve never met anyone who can read emotions and spin words better than he can.

“Do you think I, for one, would stand you being around for a minute after Harry announced his separation if I didn’t think you belonged, Ted?” Hugo speaks quietly, almost gently. “You’ve got every right to be here, you’re a part of this family as much as anyone else. Your name might as well be Potter or Weasley, and goddammit, Ted, it’s time you get that into that thick skull of yours! You’ve been acting strange and moody since the day Dad proposed to Scorpius’s father, and it’s only been getting worse since. You owe Scorpius here a chance, because he’s done nothing wrong. If nothing else then for who your father was and what he was put through.”

All right, I confess that caught me off guard as well. I can’t for the love of God make head or tail of the look Teddy shoots Hugo… but it’s heart-breaking. He looks as if he might want hit Hugo with a hex any moment now – or hug him fiercely and bury his head into his shoulder. But Hugo is, of course, entirely undeterred. That boy certainly knows how to ride the moment.

“Your dad… Remus Lupin, was the kindest, most gentle-hearted man by everyone’s account,” he says quietly, “yet he faced prejudice wherever he went for something he had no fault in. And Scorpius has had it much the same, Ted. He didn’t ask for his surname, you know, yet he has to live with the weight of it every hour of every day. He’s had it hard, Ted. All I’m asking of you is to give him a fair chance to prove himself. A fair chance, Teddy. Nothing else. Like your dad would have deserved.”

Damn… and now I’m teary-eyed as well…

“Fuck…” Teddy murmurs somewhat shakily, and quickly fixes a wayward lock of his gorgeous purple hair while covertly taking care of a rebellious tear that treacherously made it out of the corner of his eye anyway.

“All right,” he then sighs.

Really?! My god, _really_?! Merlin’s beard! That was… that was, unexpected. Am I ready?! Oh, goddammit, am I? I’ve got this one chance to impress him, to get a tiny reimbursement for the long hours I’ve put into listening to every bit of their recordings Hugo has armed me with… to catch his attention for one bloody moment, like I was never able to until now.

“One chance. That’s it.”

He’s looking at me now, properly, for the first time. With his eyes resting on me, measuring me up, I try to shake some of that stiffness from my shoulders and attempt a smile one that I’m sure comes out awfully awkward. It’s now or never, then. But I think… I think I can do this.

I’ve always had a special relationship with music, I just never knew how much until Hugo introduced me to the Muggle-style music their band plays. It was deep, intense love at first sound. I wasn’t lying: I know every word of the lyrics they’ve ever written. Al is an incredible songwriter and I always just kind of let go at the first notes of it. It’s like I can’t help letting the raw sound of it wash over me, let the energy take over, allowing it to pull me wherever it wants me to go. So far, my voice, and even my body has always followed it like I am possessed. I remember Hugo staring at me with something incomprehensible in those sapphire eyes of his when I first started singing along, but I thought nothing of it at the time, because I’m almost in a trance when I sing. I lose myself in it, I let it reach inside me and pull out the real Scorpius, the man I want to be.

Hugo has been telling me since that very first time that I’ve got real talent, and I guess we’re about to see if he’s right. I hear Al playing the intro of the first song, and I almost smile to myself when I pick up the microphone, because he has set me up with a challenge of his own. He has started with the hardest, most complex song he ever wrote. He smiles at me shyly, encouragingly, because he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body, and I know that he’s offering me a chance to prove myself good and proper. Thanks, Al, I got this. At least I hope so.

This… is for you, Ted.

~

 


	2. The snake-charmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in this chapter are from the song "Bulls in the Bronx" by Pierce the Veil, and are, as such, the property of their owners - I mean no harm and make no profit. :)

_JesusfuckingChrist_ … All right, so I… oh, fuck it… It’s a good thing my bass guitar comes with a rope around my neck, or I swear I would have dropped the damn thing the second Scorpius Malfoy picked up that microphone from the stand.

_“Do you know  
I count your heartbeats before you sleep…”_

So, uhm, I was wrong. _Spectacularly_ so. Not only does Scorpius Malfoy have the voice to pull this off – a sultry, sexy, warm singing voice that makes the hairs on my arms stand up – but boy, does he also have _the moves_ …! The second the pole from the mic stand disappears between those long, lean, leather-clad legs, I lose my marbles… not one by one, but all at once. In other words, my cock goes from bored napping to a fucking steel rod in a matter of seconds. Then he leans forward as if he wants to let his mouth make love to the microphone captured in those elegant, narrow hands, and his lips seem so… _obscenely_ soft and tender, I’m beside myself from shock how could I’ve missed something as beautiful as that until now. Well, I sure as hell can’t say I’ll ever get the sight of them out of my mind again, as I seem to have developed an instant obsession with how incredibly… _ohgod_ … fuckable they look.

But then he flashes me a smile in that sexy, half-shy way, as if he can’t quite believe how he managed to wreck me in a space of a few seconds. When he turns around, that long, blond silken hair spills forward from his loosened plait, and I’m… _ohfuckyessss_ … I’m roast, all right? I mean, I’m… I barely manage to swallow a moan, and as he spins around the improvised stage like a whirlwind with that gorgeous long hair flowing around him like a veil made of moonlight, I can’t, for the love of all that’s sacred, take my eyes off him. I am a complete fucking addict for men with long hair, I’ll have you know – soft in the knees, ready to worship, and all. And when the hair is so smooth, lustrous and shiny… oh, fuck me backwards…

And I could swear the little blond fucker is flirting with me – and I mean: with _me_. Not with Al – he’s not smiling into those precious emerald eyes – and not with Jamie, covered in a sheen of perspiration behind his drum kit, a proper beast with that athletic body and gorgeous like a god of old. No, not with James. With me, Ted Lupin. The insignificant bass player. Not a Potter. Not a Weasley either. Me, Ted.

In the semi-darkness of the December afternoon, his eyes sparkle like molten silver. They seem to glance at me every so often; all too often for my peace of mind. I can catch glimpses of his pearly complexion under the leather jacket he’s wearing. Because _of course_ he can’t have a t-shirt underneath, that would be too much to ask for – it’s only fucking _December_ , and Christmas is in three days, so he _must be_ hot _!_ – and I must be cursed that way. I just… I can’t believe just how sensual and rhythmical his movements are. He moves like a bloody serpent, and I’m completely mesmerised by the image of the most delectable arse in the world. Round, firm, and so bloody tempting, moving to the fast, intense pace of the tune like Scorpius Malfoy is riding this fucking song.

But then he casts me another quick look over his shoulder, and I swear, I can literally feel my nipples grow hard from a shocking, incomprehensible surge of pure magic between us. And without a warning, the beautiful blond serpent suddenly sheds his leather jacket in one liquid movement like the snake would its skin, and turns to face me like a storm I can’t run from.

_“Please, don't take this out on me,  
'Cause you're the only thing that's keeping me alive…”_

Those silver eyes are set straight on mine and that sweet mouth is so close to the bulbous head of the microphone that the luscious lips are nearly touching it. It’s not hard to imagine that mouth opening for me, and I’m… _ohgodfuck_ , I think I’m being thoroughly mind-fucked by Scorpius Malfoy.

“Fuck…” I groan out.

Mercifully, it’s muted by the loud music, but I can’t bloody help myself, can I?! My cock is painfully hard and pressing at the back of my bass guitar with enough force to make a bloody hole in it. I don’t think I’ve been this ready to shoot my load without touching myself since I was a randy teenager! Fuck Scorpius Malfoy and his delectable arse… and those dangerous, silver eyes… fuck him. Like, for real. It’s all I can think about.

_“I've been having this dream that we can fly,  
So maybe if we never wake up, we can see the sky.”_

I’m completely spellbound by him and he knows. He must, because he smiles at me again, only it’s no longer shy and angelic, but slow and sexy, just a little darker, just the right kind of edgy and simply bursting with pure, undistilled sex that calls my name… _ohgodfuckyes_ …

“Ted… _Ted_!”

I snap out of my trance when Hugo’s deep voice hits me like a whip. I’m still breathing kind of laboured, not feeling entirely down to earth yet, just wondering stupidly how I managed to miss that the song ended And how I’m standing in front of Scorpius; mere inches from him, with god-knows-what intentions.

“Passed,” Al says dryly.

“With flying colours,” Jamie adds, with laughter in his voice. “We might not want you back after a performance like this, Hugh.”

“Well, about that…” Hugo murmurs, but then thinks better of it, and looks at me with those calm, sapphire eyes.

“Ted?” he asks, but I only nod hastily.

I honestly haven’t got strength left for more. My knees feel like jelly and even my head feels all wobbly. I’m not sure I can form proper words right now, I just know I can’t imagine not seeing Scorpius in action again.

“Good, that’s settled, then,” Hugo says firmly, all business as usual.

I can hear the satisfaction in his voice. He doesn’t seem to be gloating, but I realise I must have walked right into his expectations and lived up to them so perfectly, he might as well have put _Imperio_ on me. Oh, to hell with you, you redheaded menace… did you really have to?

“I’ll go through the list of songs to play at the gig with Scorpius. We can’t afford to blunder this one, so he’ll be here to practice with you tomorrow morning.”

_Tomorrow morning._ I’ll see that smile, those dreamy eyes, and _that_ arse again tomorrow morning. I... I don’t even know how I feel about that. But then, Scorpius beams blissfully straight at me, and it’s so… so… so fucking perfect and endearing that I’m pretty sure those marbles I lost earlier aren’t coming back any time soon.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “You won’t regret it.”

But then he turns around, picks up his jacket and hurries after Hugo in long strides, and I… I’m not ready. I’m not ready for a breathless flutter and a painful ache in my chest as I watch him leave.

_What.The.Fuck… was that?!_

~

_OhmysweetbabyJesus_ , it worked! I’ve made it! I’ve really made it. Oh, god, I honestly don’t know which way is up right now! I’m just… so bloody overwhelmed and confused I can’t even… Oh, man, what did I get myself into?!

Hugo told me it was their biggest gig to date, a Christmas gig, an opening of the Quidditch winter season-sort, the one that can fill the biggest Quidditch pitch in the country to the brim! Funny how Hugo somehow _failed_ to mentioned this to me before today’s visit. Probably out of the justified fear that I’d run away screaming in panic; rightfully so. The redheaded bastard only told me he was ready to take me to a rehearsal of their little band. Even though I was reluctant to be trespassing, the drive to see Ted again was too strong and – oh, who wouldn’t be excited to watch the biggest up-and-coming wrock stars at practice in their very own lair?! That alone felt like _such_ a privilege, but _this_ …

Oh, Merlin’s super-balls… am I up to this?! I have to be… I _have to_! If only for a chance to stand next to Ted and feel that… that _something_ … what the hell was _that_? Was it real? It felt real…

The second I started singing, I could feel his shock hit me almost like a physical force. I remember thinking: _‘That’s right, Lupin. Still think this Malfoy’s not good enough?’_ – but then his eyes turned amber again, and… oh boy, yup, just like this, I was roast. I could feel those intense eyes following me around the place, looking almost mesmerised by the way I moved. That… crazy-erotic sense of performing for him and him alone, positively fried my resentment and, possibly, the rest of my brain with it.

I don’t know what devil possessed me to go and stand in front of him while singing the refrain, but the way he looked at me, his hair shifting between fiery red and deep purple, that raw passion and energy between us that suddenly felt like a primal, bone-deep connection… It just reached inside of me like a potent spell, and, Merlin, yes, it charged me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything quite so… fulfilling… so very gratifying… so right. It was almost as if I had a mental orgasm of sorts. Oh, universe, please, that’s just… evil. Ted as good as hates me! But the mere memory of it still makes me blush and makes the world kind of frizzy at the edges.

“Are you all right?” Hugh asks softly.

I just nod, still seven kinds of choked with excitement, elation and the mad energy still coursing through my veins. I can’t put to words how I feel, so I do what Hugo taught me to do, and I take his hand. Almost no one knows that about him, but Hugo is a powerful empath, and that’s the best way to communicate my jumbled, overpowering feelings to him.

“Merlin,” he murmurs with a smile a moment later.

"Sorry," I mumble, as I realise that the avalanche of my emotions must have simply _flooded_ his senses. But it helps… like this. It helps knowing that someone understands, or at least knows how I feel, and the tension I feel gradually dissipates and my thoughts are clearer. I can’t help it but to smile at Hugo gratefully. He always brings out the best in me, ever since the very first time my father formally introduced me to Ron Weasley and his children, looking every bit as anxious as I felt.

Rose was in my year, and I knew her from a few classes we used to share. But we were never close, so she just waved at me across the room a bit stiffly, and I thought I saw her sigh a little. This couldn’t have been easy for her, having her parents split and cause such a scandal, but she was taking it like a champ, and I guess she was rational enough not to go looking for blame. But Hugo… I only knew Hugo by reputation, and he was another game entirely. He just crossed the room in three long strides – not much of a feat for those endless legs – and before I knew it, he hugged me good and proper.

It was an utter shock to me. I don’t think I’ve ever been properly hugged until then… and I certainly never experienced _anything_ as overwhelming as the bear-hug he enveloped me in!

“Scorpius, is it? I’ve _always_ wanted a brother,” he murmured quietly, and there was something about the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice that melted all my stiffness away. “I begged my mum for it countless times when I was little, but it looks like in the end, my dad gave me one.” He chuckled softly. “We’re going to be so good together.”

And that was it, really. I only had to look at my father to see how shocked, relieved, radiant, and even moved he was – seriously, he was so much easier to read since he finally shacked up with Ron! – and I knew that the reception Hugo gave me exceeded his expectations by a bloody mile. Could it be? Have we really been accepted? Or was this an elaborate prank that was going to end in multiple heartbreak? My stunned mind only rotated around that one thought. Hugo’s embrace promised that this was the end of being shunned and ridiculed for my surname alone – because of - uhm, remember that Hugo's reputation? Yeah, because of that. I remember clearly that in those moments I could scarcely believe that there was a chance our isolation, and with it, my crippling loneliness, finally came to an end. But I barely knew Hugo back then. I didn’t know someone could live up to that silent promise on such a scale.

“You boys will be all right, yeah?” I remember hearing Ron say, and I could tell from his voice alone that he was just kind of melted at the sight of his son so unequivocally showing his support to what must have appeared like an outright mad life change to most.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Hugo said quietly, but firmly. “Scorpius is going to get only the best of me.”

He’s always kept his promise. He’s been a better friend to me than any natural brother could have been. And, holding onto his hand right now, it finally hits me to what lengths he is willing to go to give me the best of him: he’s letting me have his spot at their biggest gig to date, the performance that was going to make or break them. I’m suddenly giddy – and terrified – by this revelation. That’s… I don’t know if I can handle this.

Everyone knows that their band _The Weazaster_ is the rising star on the wrock scene, unexpectedly booming since The Weird Sisters announced they were considering retiring. They are gathering fans all over the country and beyond by the minute, and not a day goes by without the wireless playing at least a couple of their songs. But only a precious few can imagine the countless hours of practice, fingers worn to the bone and voices turned raw behind the lightning speed of success like this. And if they make it now, if this Christmas gig _is_ a success, I’m just going to reap the fruits of their labour without contributing much. Perhaps Ted was right, perhaps I shouldn’t…

“Don’t,” Hugo says quietly. “I wouldn’t let you have it if I didn’t think you were up to it, Scorp. You’re the one. Not only for Ted,” a naughty smile flashes across his handsome face before it turns serious again, “but for our band as well. You can’t see yourself, but you’re it. The snake-charmer we need.”

And what he implies just takes my breath away.

“You mean… you want me to _replace_ you? Like, for good? Merlin’s lame rabbit, Hugh, you’re raving mad! They’re never going to accept that! A stand-in, perhaps, because everyone knows how much this Muggle degree means to you, you mini-Granger, but for good… Ted, for one, is going to kill me!”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he gives me a leisurely smile. “The only way Lupin might want to kill you after today is by crushing you with his weight while fucking you through the floor, lovely.”

“Shut it,” I mumble, but my heart is fluttering like a mad, drunken butterfly, and I’m fairly sure that I’m as red as a carnation flower.

You know that axiom that the Malfoy men don’t blush? Myth, pure myth, we blush badly enough to be incorporated into the Gryffindor banner! You should have seen my father when Ron went down on his knee for him! The colour on those haughty, noble cheekbones could have stopped the traffic! I feel my own face positively flushing as we speak, and I’m quite desperate to change the topic.

“But I’m not you…” I start, but this is Hugo, and I don’t get very far. I can tell that he has it all worked out; probably had had it worked out since before he dragged me to their practice that turned out to be so much more.

“Oh, quit buttering me up, Malfoy.” He nudges me and winks. “There’s nothing to gain here; I already gave you everything.”

And that makes me smile. It’s our little in-joke that I’m the sneaky, snobbish snot who’s only using him, a poor, clueless Weasley for his gain, and because this concept is _wrongwrongwrong_ on so many levels, it never fails to entertain me. 

“I mean, I don’t have any self-confidence issues, if that’s what you’re aiming at.” He finally shrugs. “I’m all right. I can definitely sing… but not like this. Not with your passion, nor with your vibe and definitely not with that ungodly, freaky talent you’ve got. And our band deserves the best. I watched you, Scorp. I watched you closely. When you’re up there, on the stage with the boys, you just… make the magic happen, bro.” He smiles with that unbeatable, radiant smile of his. “You _fit_. You fit right in.”

And for the first time, I feel like I’m starting to believe him. But still…

“But what about you?” I ask, because I know that I just can’t…

Look, I don’t know if the guys in the band are going to accept me, ever, but I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the eye if I took something like this from Hugo. He’s been breathing this band in since he was sixteen, and I could never _not_ check if he is going to be all right.

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I have no plans to let this band’s future go astray without me. But, to be honest, I was always more interested in the business aspect of our success, and I want to keep working in that direction… as our manager, not our singer. Let’s just say that I prefer pulling the strings from behind, rather than on stage.”

He smiles cheekily, and you know what – I believe him. That’s Hugh in a nutshell, pulling strings from behind.

“I don’t know if I’m up to it,” I confess plainly. “I know I can do the job, sing and move. When I hear the music it’s almost like it’s not even my choice, yeah? But this is the largest wizarding venue in the country, Hugh! There will be people from all over the country, fans, the press, the wireless, even bloody Viktor Krum has been invited by your mother, my God!”

If he didn’t laugh the way only Hugh can – unabashed, with his head thrown backwards and the laughter erupting from the depth of his chest like a precious golden spring – I would have let the panic take over me and I wouldn’t be able to do it. I’d driven myself so far before that I quit before I took that one important step, but this time, Hugo, my guardian angel, is here to save me.

“You don’t have to perform for all of them,” he says with some of that sweet laughter still in his voice. “You won’t be able to see most of them because of the lights, anyway. You’re not there for them: they’re there for you. And you – you can only sing for that one special person. You look at them, only at them, you share yourself with them, sincerely, entirely, you sing your heart out to them, Scorpius Malfoy. And that, my precious little brother, you _can_ do. I’ve seen it happen tonight. Ted was all but swooning… I swear, he almost jumped you right there and then!”

“Shut it, Weasel,” I mumble, feeling the familiar blush creep up my cheeks at the echoes of the memory. “God, that pornish mind of yours…”

That makes him laugh again. But, the way he just spoke to me of singing makes me think if that, perhaps, Hugo Weasley knows all there is to know about singing for one special person. I wonder who they are? Merlin, Hugh is such an enigma. You never see him dating anyone, yet there’s got to be _someone_ … There are stars in that boy’s eyes, and sometimes when no one’s watching, he’s got that dreamy, smitten expression on his handsome, freckled face that only love brings about. I bet it’s requited. Who could say no to him, honestly? I’m so lucky I don’t have a crush on him! This boy could break my heart into bits. He could splinter anyone’s heart, really. I wonder who’s fascinating enough to have captured his attention? Whomever they are, they’re the luckiest bastard alive.

“Will you be there?” I ask him, suddenly anxious for his support… and then I remember. “Oh, dammit, you can’t…”

“The reception at Oxford is in the afternoon,” he says calmly, without flinching. “The gig is not. Just don’t tell anyone.”

“But then – why…?!” I’m too flabbergasted to even finish.

“Because you deserve a chance. Because our band does. Because I do… to be who I want to be… with who I want to be with.”

And then it strikes me.

“You’ll be there… with your mysterious other half.”

He just nods.

“In the crowd. Watching your every move. Cheering for you. Remember that.”

“Can I…?” Oh, I know this is an impossible request for someone as private as Hugo, but I can’t resist. If I’m ever going to use my brotherly privilege, it better be for something good. “Can I meet them?”

And then he smiles. It’s one of those breathtakingly beautiful, mysterious smiles, that hold all the secrets of the universe and bestow their radiance upon the world.

“You _have_ met them,” he says quietly.

_What?!_ But I…

“Scorpius Malfoy, you’ve got _the biggest_ gig to date to do with _the best_ wrock band this country has ever seen in _just three measly_ days. And fuck me backwards, you scatter-brained blond twat, if I’m going to let you worry about _anything_ other than how to do it right. Now, the set-list…”

I just know that I’m not going to drag anything more out of him. That’s Hugo for you. It’s like trying to know the universe by only staring at it. Perhaps he’s not meant to be understood.

“Now, do you know what’s Ted’s favourite song?”

_What?! Ohmygod_ , no, of course I don’t! Merlin, there’s _so_ much to learn. And only three – no, two, god help me, _two_! – days left to soak it all in.

“Bloody hell, Hugh… You know perfectly well that I don’t! Oh, what have you gotten me into, you ginger evil?! Tell me, quickly! Show me, teach me, tell me everything… Oh, I’m going to murder you!”


	3. If only I could reach you

So, this is just stupid… Beyond stupid even! Why am I nervous?! Why the hell is it me who’s nervous?! It should be him, Scorpius! He’s about to get tested – inside out if I can help it! – and I’ve really got no reason to be so beside myself. Well, no _good_ reason anyway. I might have a lame one, though… a very, very lame one.

Uhm, I might have been thinking about him the whole evening… and the night; yeah, that bit was interesting. And when I finally managed to fall asleep, I _might_ have been dreaming of long legs, long blond hair, wondering what else is long… see? See the bloody nonsense of it?! I’ve spent perhaps twenty minutes in the company of the venomous blond serpent and already I feel like I’ve been… well, poisoned. Perhaps possessed. Fucking Malfoys. Poisoning and possessing people left and right… bloody family trade that is!

But this is not over yet! I’m not just going to let that blond ang… well, not angel, certainly not _angel._ Merlin’s holey knickers, don’t I have one straight thought in my head today?! I’m not going to let the skinny bastard rip into our band, my band, and just… take over! There, I’ve said it. He’s not that important. He’s not.

“Who’s not that important?”

_Huh?_

“You just mumbled to yourself _‘He’s not that important!’_ , sounding all pissy – and I just want to know who are you on about, you silly wanker!” Jamie mumbles and throws one of his drumsticks at me. “Why are you all in a shambles today, eh? It’s not because of Scorp again, you lunatic?”

“Of course not, you arse!” I bark, none too happy that I got caught thinking… Ugh, I just realised that I’ve also wasted my entire morning on thoughts of Scorpius Malfoy. Talk about a lost morning. “He’s not…”

“… that important?” Al chimes in angelically.

Let me tell you something: this Potter tandem double-roast is a thing of _nightmares_! Al and Jamie barely ever see eye-to-eye, bickering over everything and nothing like two alpha-male-wannabes would, _except_ when they have to roast someone else. Then they’re as synchronised as a school of fish, best friends, brothers for life… ugh, damn those Marauder Potter genes!

“Who’s not important? What did I miss?”

I groan mentally. Not Hugo as well! Did he have to show up at this very moment?! You know, the only thing worse than a pair of Potters roasting you for the thing you foolishly let slip, is Hugo Weasley, not even having to roast anyone. He just looks at you – and he knows. I swear it. Bloody geniuses… Why did Ron Weasley have to marry one _and_ produce another one to boot?! And, of course, he’s not alone.

He’s followed by that blond dream… I mean _nightmare_ , bloody nightmare! Because that’s what Scorpius Malfoy is! Definitely! The shy, sweet smile aside, and that round, sweet… er, irrelevant, Ted, you idiot. That bum that could tempt a celibate saint is _entirely_ irrelevant! God, can’t I finish a bloody thought today?! It’s as if my brain fell apart at the sight of him! He’s looking at me with those inscrutable silver eyes again, and he looks a bit anxious and… well, not endearing, no, but… er, perhaps kind of harmless? How does someone who’s able to cause such devastation just by showing up appear _harmless?_ It’s beyond me, but perhaps that’s a special Malfoy trait: show up, casually cause Armageddon, and still look like there should be a shrine to your name somewhere.

“Are you all right with me…?” His voice is warm and rich if a bit posh, but there must be something in the way I look at him that makes it trail off, and he suddenly looks a bit lost.

“Oh… I guess not,” he concludes, and backs away from me as if I’ve slapped him.

Look, I didn’t mean to…

“Oh, don’t worry about Lupin here,” Hugo says calmly. “He probably thinks you hexed me into giving up my place for you.”

“I think no such bollocks!” I bark angrily, but then I’m nearly catapulted to the ceiling by an absolutely vicious shriek.

“Then what the fuck is it, Ted?! Why are you looking at him as if you’re about to hex him, huh?! You can’t stand him because he can actually sing? Because he’s bloody gorgeous enough to sell out that fucking Quidditch pitch to screaming teenagers on his own? Because he’s got just as much bloody talent as I, or you, or any one person this band – and you _know_ it! Because he’s a Malfoy?! He surely _chose_ to be one just to annoy you! Now, get the fuck over whatever the hell it is, Ted Lupin, because I’m not risking this band’s future for one of your sulky, childish grudges!!!”

The silence reigns eternal…

“I didn’t _say_ anything…” I try stubbornly but the room is still as silent as a grave.

Dammit… I really had this one coming, didn’t I? I must have because no one comes to my defence. Possibly, they’re all deaf after Hugo’s thunderous roaring. I confess I’m… well, I’m a tad ashamed. I don’t dare look in Malfoy’s direction for the fear of what I might see. Anger? Wounded pride? Him, leaving? Merlin’s holey socks, I… I mean, we can’t have that. I risk a nervous glance in his direction after all, and what I see crushes my heart a little.

Scorpius is staring at the ground, his pretty face serene, but strangely distant and closed off as if he locked himself and his dreams up, and I realise that I have problems dealing with the fact that I caused this. I caused this radiant young man, who came here with no ill intentions and showed us all just how much we could shine, to close up and lose his lustre. And for what? Because… oh, fuck it, because I’m so terribly, uncontrollably attracted to him that it scares the fuck out of me?

I was ready to hate him the second he stepped into our little shrine at twelve Grimmauld Place, but then he took on the challenge so bravely and it only took that one song, filled with the magic of his singing, and I was toast. I no longer knew how to behave… think… breathe around him. How’s that normal?! Who wouldn’t have flipped a little?

Another drumstick hits me from behind, so Jamie’s opinion on the matter is clear. When the neck of Al’s guitar casually, yet not entirely pain-free slams at my arse and Al murmurs the most unapologetic _‘Sorry…’_ ever, I know for a fact that I’ve behaved like a little shit. Fuck… Now what? How do I fix this? That tiny leaden fear in my chest is back – what if I can’t fix it? What if I made them choose?

You’d think Hugo was done with me after all that deafening howling, but that’s Minister Granger’s son for you: he’s not done until _he_ thinks he’s done. Suddenly, he’s in front of me with his massive arms folded across his wide chest… and he’s just bloody scary! No wonder his mum got elected Minister for Magic, she must have intimidated all the other candidates away… and he’s about a head and half taller than Hermione Granger ever was!

“He’s been practising all night, Ted,” he says so calmly you’d never guess he nearly screamed me into oblivion just moments ago. “All night, Ted. He only slept two hours because I made him. He’s gone through every song we planned to play and half a dozen more left and right. He knows them all word for word, and he’s bloody brilliant. You’ve seen him. And you promised to give him a chance, so I can promise you one thing as well: you haven’t seen the best of Scorpius Malfoy yet.”

Well… I _have_ if he leaves, haven’t I?! God dammit, Hugh, do something, get me out of this mess. It’s me who needs another chance now! I guess… I don’t want him to leave after all.

“Scorp.” Hugo turns his head towards the blond angel standing by the door as if he was indeed about to walk out of here, and smiles at him mischievously. “Care to introduce the band to that tune you were chirping this morning in the bathroom?”

Oh, wow… would you look at that? Just when I thought Scorpius Malfoy couldn’t look any paler…

 

~

 

Oh, crap.

Crappity crap.

Just moments ago, I was ready to walk through the door never to return, but now… What in the name of Merlin’s lame Crup possessed me to go mumbling my own song in the bathroom this morning?! I should have known better… At least with Hugo around I should have. My paranoid father would have a thing or two to say about _constant vigilance!_   But after two hours of rest this morning, I was rejuvenated and filled with expectation that I was going to see Ted soon. And then there was that mad sort of delusional hope that some of that inexplicable magic from a day before would perhaps still linger between us... I swear, I found myself mumbling the half-finished lyrics before I even realised what I was doing. How could I have known that the Weasley Secret Service was listening in?!

Oh, I could just smack my stupid head against the wall! A fat lot of good my pining did me: Ted just looked at me with such anger and resentment that it nearly made my heart freeze in my chest. He didn’t even have to say out loud how he felt about me, there was no other way to interpret it. Hugo saw it, too – ergo that bloody scary howling – and just when I was ready to sneak out quietly and lick my wounds somewhere by myself, I found myself the centre of everyone’s attention. Uhm, how do I get out of this?

“It’s not finished yet,” I mutter, but Hugo just gives me a rogue smile and raises an eyebrow, as if I merely attempted a lame joke.   

“Well, no point in waiting,” he says sweetly. “Might as well finish it now. The boys will help.”

Shit, there really is no way out of it, is there? This is it. My choice. I can either walk out right now with my Malfoyian dignity intact, or I can put everything on the line for the one thing I want with all my heart. And my head is a mess. I have a good mind to tell Hugh to sod off; that I’ll keep on happily observing my favourite band from afar because my shredded hopes are about as much as my heart can take. But then, I catch a glimpse of Ted, and there’s a most curious expression on his face.

I’ve got years of experience in trying to discern emotions from my father’s polished façade, so I can read Ted like an open book. His expression is a mixture of guilt, embarrassment and something more intricate, that might or might not be remorse. But there’s definitely surprise and most peculiar interest. His eyes are morphing from hazel to gold again, and in a sudden bout of stubborn defiance, I make a desperate decision. To hell with it. What have I got to lose? He already hates me. Whatever I do won’t make a bit of difference. And suddenly I realise that I’m in the mood for this song.

I’ve always been careful to conceal my attempts at writing music from everyone because I didn’t think they were something to write mother home about, but here’s the point of now or never. I know Hugo hasn’t broken the news of wanting me to replace him yet, but I can’t imagine being a part of the band and never contributing anything other than performance. Still, I feel as stiff as a board when I mutter a desperate _“Right…”,_ and head for the beautiful, old-fashioned pianoforte standing in the corner of the room.

_“Property of Sirius Black”_ it says across the shiny black surface in intricate silver calligraphy, and I briefly find myself wondering if the instrument that looks ancient belonged to the Sirius who left Harry Potter this house, or perhaps another Sirius down the mighty line of Black I belong to. I touch the keys lightly and they seem to respond to me and to the sudden melancholy I feel, their sound resonating through the room like a clear chime from the past. How many miserable people have sat where I sit, and played their sorrow out?

 

_“If only I could reach you,_

_If only I could make you see –_

_If only I could show you_

_What a wonder you are to me…”_

 

“Oh, yes, baby…” I hear Al murmur, when he tunes in with his guitar softly, and James just grunts _“Damn right…”_ before he sets a slow, gentle pace with his drums. But Ted doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t make a move, and I don’t want to look at him, not yet; perhaps not ever.

 

_“If I could light the dark_

_And close the distance_

_Keeping us apart_

_I’d show you world unknown, the universe_

_At the centre of my heart._

_In this long-forgotten place_

_Your laughter is the only sound around_

_Your eyes emit the only light –_

_You are this planet’s only star…”_

 

I can hear him now, the slow, deep rhythm of his bass guitar, like a heartbeat of an aching heart, but it’s all right, because it’s all for him… I’m all for him, even though he doesn’t want me. And I find the right words to end the tune at last.

 

_“But I will never reach you._

_And I will never make you see –_

_Cause I’m a cold, lost planet_

_And your light – it’s not for me.”_

 

When the last echo of the pianoforte’s melancholic chime gradually disappears into the spacious room of the basement of twelve Grimmauld Place, a slow clapping sound fills the place. I smile gratefully at the enthusiasm of my supportive brother-by-chance without even lifting my eyes from the ivory keyboard. I’m not quite ready to face the world yet.

But then I’m startled to hear James, of all people, join in with the clapping. Well, it’s more like banging his drumsticks together, but it counts, yeah?

“Well, that was just… haunting,” he says, sounding genuinely surprised and, unless I’m mistaken, a tad pleased. “It’s bloody sad, though. Cool song, just kind of miserable, really.”

“Oh, shut it, you big oaf. Can’t you not, like, _quit_ when you’re ahead for once?” Al groans, sounding annoyed, yet uncommonly enthusiastic. “You know very well birds are going to love it… hell, _I_ love it!”

He stops in front of me, and I don’t want to appear rude, so I look at him. There’s a sweet smile painted across that stunning face that makes the girls weak in the knees.

“We don’t have too many ballads and I’m a bit of a sucker for odes to misery, Malfoy. And I happen to think Hugo is right: you’ll do just fine with us. Does this song of yours have a name?”

“I just finished it,” I mumble, and I can feel the blush returning to my cheeks. “I can’t possibly…”

“ _Spectral_ ,” Ted says quietly, and my heart nearly stops in my chest. I didn’t hear him come near, and the title is just too perfect. “Like the tune of a ghost, withering away in solitude, desperate to be seen.”

My head snaps up in shock, and I make the mistake of looking into those sparkling golden eyes. I’m just… flabbergasted. I can’t tell him… I can’t find the words to tell him that this is _exactly_ how I feel; that this is about me and my lonely existence, and has been for as long as I could remember. For the longest time, it used to be me, standing at the edge of a world vibrant with life, light and love, yet I remained unseen, unwanted, unable to reach out. Even now… But how is it possible that Ted, of all people, seems to understand?

“ _Spectral_ it is,” I say, but my voice seems to be broken and it comes out as hushed, making the fragile moment between us incredibly intimate. And I realise, I’m no longer sad, just terribly tender on the inside with some wild, uncontainable love.

And like in a slow dance, his long, strong fingers, calloused from years of working the strings, unexpectedly reach out for a loose lock of my hair, fixing it gently behind my ear. And his touch might as well have branded me. Everything inside me just bursts to life, my breath hitches and it’s a good thing I’m still sitting down, because I’m suddenly seven kinds of dizzy, as if the deep amber colour of his eyes hypnotised me. I can’t help myself. I lean into his fingers ever so slightly, and see his eyes go wide in shock.

And just like this it’s all over. His fingers disappear as if it was all merely an illusion and I swear, there’s a muttered, bewildered _“Fuck…”_ and a desperate, utterly confused expression on his face when he turns away with the speed of a man who woke up at the edge of a cliff and barely escaped tumbling over.

He heads towards the opposite side of the room, as if he wants to put as much distance between us as possible. But, even as he walks away, I still feel the magic of his touch resonate in my heart, and I smile, suddenly foolishly hopeful and elated.

“I hope you’ve got more for me than this measly song I brought to the table.” I look at Al, because he’s the closest. “I stayed up all night to do some actual singing around here. I should certainly hope that wasn’t all there is.”

“Posh wanker,” Al murmurs, but he sounds entertained, even impressed, rather than annoyed. “He joined the band three seconds ago and thinks he can already boss us around. Let’s show him what a proper set-list looks like _out loud_ , boys! Shall we?”

The last thing I clearly remember is that dark, rich spring of laughter coming from Hugo, and after that it’s all a blur of chords, cursing and howls of laughter, brilliant first-times, failed attempts, attempts we failed better at, repeats, more fine-tuning, fairly decent performances, drumsticks hitting the back of my head, more laughter, more cursing, drinks and snacks being devoured standing up, and one song upon another and another and another… I’ve never been happier in my life.

Hugo leaves at some point, muttering something about having so much to do, but he returns when the winter sun is setting, and the long shadows creep through the narrow windows of the basement. And I’m exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that when he puts his arm across my shoulders, I do something I’ve never done before in my life: I turn around and just hang myself on him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” I whisper, not really able to find the right words, but I know he’ll understand. “Can you take me home now? I’m dead on my feet.”

He chuckles softly, and when he replies under his breath, his voice is full of mirth.

“Not unless you want Lupin to skin me alive, _Princess_. The way he’s looking at me, I reckon I might have to duel him to take you anywhere.”

I dare a shy glance across his shoulder and I’m startled to see that Ted’s eyes are indeed set on us, and the expression on his face is positively stormy. That’s… interesting.

“You know, if I had to guess, I’d say he appears properly jealous.” Hugo chuckles softly, and it makes my heart skip a beat because I know for a fact that he’s really good in such guessing games. “Small wonder, the magic between you two being what it is, eh?”

“Shut it, you ginger menace,” I whisper as quietly as I can.

I’m probably the colour of a setting sun, and I’m not fooling anyone, not myself, and certainly not Hugo. What point is there in lying, really? He was there long enough to have witnessed it himself.

The magic between Ted and I is indeed still intact, undeniable… and scarily beyond our control. It’s that very magic that has made this day into such an incredible… mind-blowing… heart-stopping experience for me.

Every time I heard the beginning of a song – any song, though I had my favourites – the impossible happened and I just floated away with it, allowing it to transport me to a different dimension. And every time, I took Ted on a journey with me.

It was the most insane thing ever, but when I started singing, Teddy Lupin could only resist me for so long. I moved around the room twice, three times, and there he was, on my heels already. God, I loved it that way; I could sing well into the next week to see him being pulled towards me like an entranced moth to the flame. And, god knows, everything in me just responded to his presence. Merlin, I don't even have words for it... but it’s like my voice, even my body, just tuned into him, and he became the centre of my every performance. I did every single song for him – not actually _trying_ to impress him, god forbid, I’m nowhere near confident enough to believe that I could – but it was like… a need. I _needed_ to give him my best, and I can’t tell you… it was just bone-meltingly _satisfying_ to see him respond. And it didn’t look like we could hide it.

“You two crazies have got some mad stage chemistry!” James chuckled at some point, after a wild, sexy song; one of their new ones that wasn’t yet released to the public. I’m fairly sure we both turned a lovely shade of crimson.

“I’ve no idea what you’re on about, you nut!” Ted replied stiffly, rapidly moving to the other side of the room as he would every time the song ended, stubbornly keeping his gaze on the ground and his fingers playing with the strings nervously.

“Never mind my brute of a brother,” Al put his two Knuts in smoothly. “Just keep doing what you’re doing and we’re going to have to fend the fans away with stinging hexes.”

Yeah… It’s not like we could hide it. It was just… one of us _really_ didn’t seem to want it. But I don’t want to think about it now; not after such a perfect day.

“All right, we’re done here for today,” Hugo announces calmly, clearly entirely unperturbed by the fact that I was still hanging around his neck, bone-tired. “Leave everything as it is, I’ll have someone pick our gear up and transport it to the venue because we won’t be coming back. The rest of your practice will be on the actual stage, tomorrow. I haven’t been lazing about. I got us a bunch of sponsors.”

“Not Dad!” Al groans, sounding pinched and annoyed, but it merely makes Hugo throw his head backwards in a thunderous laughter.

“Jeez, Al, not _your_ Dad, no…” But when he speaks up next, there’s a certain inherent air of authority in his voice that wouldn’t let anyone suspect that, at merely nineteen, he was the youngest among us.

“But perhaps it _is_ time you got over your worn-out _“I’m never going to be more than Harry Potter’s son if he comes near”_   tirade already,” he proposes casually. “Your dad is immensely proud of you, and more than a little heartbroken that you won’t let him come see us perform. You know we’ve made it as far as we did completely on our own. I sent that first tape of us playing to the wireless unsigned, and still they contacted me, trying to find out where our first gig was going to be. You know they nearly fell flat on their arses when they saw in person who we were. And at the non-disclosure clause Scorp’s father came up with, not allowing them to refer us to any other name but our band’s name. And still the music was a hit. So, this is us, Al. It’s all us, and no one else. Jamie…”

“Preaching to the converted here, Weasley.” James shrugs with a wide smile on that ruggedly handsome face. “I don’t mind Dad seeing us, never did. And right now, I’m so damn knackered, I’d let Mum take me home on a broom, covered with a pink blanket.”

Even Al howls out in laughter at the mental image of James in all his Keeper-physique glory tucked behind their tiny mum, and before we know it, our fatigue and the stress we’ve been under have us all cracking up like a bunch of baboons. I’m practically choking on my giggles, even though I’m still hung around Hugo’s neck, and it’s a good thing, or I might have met the floor in a very undignified fashion. I dare cast a shy look in Ted’s direction while he’s literally wiping tears of mirth off his cheeks, and he takes my breath away. His fantastic hair is shifting between colours again and he’s so damn gorgeous when he’s happy, it makes my heart soar and ache at the same time. God, I’m bonkers about him. I don’t think it ever hit me with as much clarity as it did in this moment.

“Oh, fuck it, Jamie, if I ever need therapy, you’re my man,” Hugo chokes out, his shoulders still shaking with barely suppressed giggles, but he finally manages to pull himself together. “Luckily, you won’t have to depend on Aunt Ginny, as I’m happy to report I got us a ride – none of that bothersome long-distance Apparating – _and_ the best hotel in town to boot. Though... there’s a tiny complication.”

“What complication?” they all want to know in one voice, and I finally tear myself away from Hugo to look him in the face. This better not be about me, being the outsider. Merlin, always this unnerving little worm of worry that something is going to go wrong at the last moment and all this would prove to be just an empty dream...

“Well, it seems as if the respectable place of Witchington has been unexpectedly occupied by a small army of screaming fans of a certain band, so the two rooms at the Four Founders Hotel are the best I could do. One is the Gryffindor royal suite, too expensive for the regular fans–”  

“It’s mine!” Al and James say in one voice.

“Oh, good, then you’ll share,” Hugo purrs like a Kneazle, and the sweet, cheeky smile on his face immediately makes me think something’s afoot. “And to think that I was worried how you’re going to get paired up.”

He’s all innocent blinks, but I’m not fooled. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Hugo Weasley it’s that the world has a funny habit of revolving according to his plans.

“No way I’m sharing with this wanker!” Al protests loudly. “He snores loud enough to wake the Inferi!”

“Like I’m staying with you, Mr. You-can’t-take-a-piss-because-I-need-my-mirror-for-seven-bloody-hours!” James imitates his brother angrily in a high-pitched tone that sounds eerily like that hag, Rita Skeeter.

“Thump me on the head with a broom next time I try to do a favour for those ungrateful Potters, will you?” Hugo mutters quietly and sighs in mock-despair before he raises his voice to stop the bickering.

“Oy, ladies! Perhaps I forgot to mention that I _might_ have been overseen writing down your room number on the reservation form by a gorgeous blonde, blue-eyed witch who looked _a lot_ like the president of a certain band’s fan club… Scorching, that one… and her three friends.”

He raises his eyebrow suggestively, and the Potters’ mouths shut closed with a snap.

“Er, actually, I’m… I’m good,” Al says quickly.

“Yeah, yup, all fine here.” James nods with a big, silly grin. “Might as well share the room with my bro. I’ve got years of experience. Awful experience, to be sure, but you know… maybe he’s changed his ways... since last week at the Burrow.”

“Hey, not so fast!” Ted unexpectedly speaks up. “What’s with the other room? You’ve got that look again, Hugo! Come on, out with it. Why can’t I share with James? He’s my best friend!”

Yeah, I get it. I do. James _is_ Ted’s best friend. But… oh, fuck it, right now I’m a little too busy being jealous of Teddy wanting to be paired with James to be rational. That lucky Potter bastard.

“Actually, Ted…” James fidgets, suddenly looking nervous and uncomfortable. “Look, can I talk to you? Like, in private?”

Ted looks confused and fairly annoyed, but follows James through the door It doesn’t really hit me until they’re gone: what about me? Hugo was clear about one thing: there’s just one room left. Does that mean I’m on my own finding one or…?

~


	4. Out there

“What do you mean you _know_ I’m into blokes?!”

All right, perhaps shouting those words might not have been the best idea I’ve ever had. Nope, not even close. My childhood adventure of climbing on the back of a sleeping dragon at the resort where Charlie Weasley worked sounds rather sparkling by comparison. But, fuck it – I’m in shock. Like, utterly out of my wits.

“Look… It’s not _like_ that…” My voice just fades away, and I gulp.

Even in my sorry state I can tell that my attempt at damage-control is pitiful, but my head is ever so in a shambles I barely know which way is up. Shit... I mean, it’s not like I’ve _actively_ tried to conceal where my libido pointed to, no. But I’ve been _careful_ about revealing it, yeah? All right, all right! I might have put a tiny bit… some… monumental effort in trying to mask my attraction to the blokes by only dating girls, but by the evil, gleeful gods, I’ve clearly failed spectacularly, and I deserve to know how!

“Well… aren’t you?”

Jamie is looking at me rather sheepishly, and I realise it must have cost him a good deal of his proverbial Potter courage to talk to me like this. It’s not like this is the usual _“gimme a beer, and pass the porn mag”_ talk between blokes, is it?!

I exhale slowly, feeling dejected, exhausted and alarmed all in one. But there’s no point in running from the truth. The way I hollered earlier, they’re probably talking about it in some remote village near Timbuktu.

“I might be,” I mutter miserably. “But how did _you_ know?”

And then he just smiles that beautiful Potter smile, kind and cheeky at once, and winks at me.

“You can’t hide something like this from me forever, you twit. I’ve known you since you were… well, forever, haven’t I? It’s not like you flaunt it, but for someone who knows you as well as I do, you’re gayer than your insane hair.” He smirks leisurely. “I’m hardly blind, you know, and sometimes you can’t help yourself, Lupin. The way you drool… I bet you know the dimensions of every wizard’s arse from here to Norway.”

“Sod off,” I mumble in a rather unstable voice.

 I’m still quite shaken at the fact that I’ve been struggling for years, carrying this… burden of being different inside, obsessing over not telling a soul what a pervert I was. Then James Potter, hardly the most perceptive bloke out there, just guessed it.

“It’s not like I mind, yeah?” He shrugs unexpectedly. “Uncle Ron’s got it bad for his Malfoy, and I happen to think they’re bloody adorable. No one cares, mate. Family sticks together. Otherwise what’s the point of it, eh? And you, dumb arse, are family, like it or not.”

His arm snakes around my shoulders and I… I might feel a bit like bawling. I bury my head in his shoulder and fist his shirt, and my heart feels as if it’s in my throat. I’ve gone all soft on the inside. Only, I can’t show it, obviously, because I’m not quite _that_ gay, thank you very much, and that’s just not… blokes don’t do that. So, I mutter something unintelligible and try not to sniffle too loud. I have to find a distraction, quickly, or I might just melt onto the floor.

“But I still don’t get it why you won’t share your room with me,” I grumble. “Knowing Hugo, your room is the only decent room left. God knows, what a torture chamber the other one is! And I’m… I’ll have to…”

Merlin’s favourite knickers, I can’t even spell out the horror. It’s been a fucking intense, bloody mental day with Scorpius invading my space like a gorgeous, lethal blond vine. Mercilessly occupying my every thought, wrapping me around his little finger with that warm, enchanting voice, and I’m ridiculously, infuriatingly helpless against his charms. Honestly, he just opens that pretty, soft mouth and I’m all putty. It’s the understatement of the century to say I’m not myself around him – I’m not! – and I’ve been around him _a lot_ today.

Ergo, I was hoping I could hang with Jamie in the evening to clear my head a bit, doing something entirely mundane and uncomplicated. But then this _“two rooms only”_ calamity happened, and now… And all of a sudden, a horrifying thought enters my mind.

“You’re not afraid I’m going to come onto you, are you?!” I blurt out, tearing myself away from Jamie and forcing myself to look my best mate in the eye. “Because I’m not! Ew, that’s just… don’t get me wrong, you’re, like, the embodiment of a gay man’s fantasy, but not _this_ gay man and I’m just _not…_ ”

“Stop, for Merlin’s sakes, _stop_ before you hurt yourself!” He chuckles warmly and ruffles my hair in a friendly gesture that feels like a soothing bandage on my badly battered self-esteem. “Why would I think something so bonkers? It’s not that, you idiot! It’s just… uhm…”

He begins fidgeting a little, not really knowing where to look, even blushing – James Potter, blushing! – and then he just blurts out: “We like to share. Al and I… we like to share girls. Always did. It’s, like, the _only_ thing we like to share. I know he’s my brother… and it _should_ be gross and all... only, it isn’t. It’s too fucking hot, and… er, with you… er… you know… not the same level of enthusiasm...”

Oh. _Oh_. I see. I’m not into right kind of sex… and clearly not the only one with secrets. But his explanation makes sense, you know. I can’t really hold it against him. He doesn’t even know how right he is. There certainly _wouldn’t_ be the same level of enthusiasm. Sex with girls always made me uncomfortable – all those complicated, unfamiliar bits, yeah? – and it was the main contributing factor that gave me away to Victoire as my first serious girlfriend.

Every drunken, hasty encounter I had with another man – it had to be a drunken one, you see, so I could blame it on something in case I got found out – was more enjoyable than a carefully-planned, elaborate seduction of the girls I used to cover up my interests and needs. I was just a fucking fraud and a sorry one at that. And for what?

Jamie clearly didn’t care, and, knowing the Potters and the Weasleys, it didn’t seem likely anyone would, either. Perhaps Percy, but he could go and choke on his stiff morals for all I cared. People who mattered didn’t care. I should have known they wouldn’t. They were my favourite family for a reason and that reason was that they always backed one of their own. I was just constantly afraid that this didn’t include me. An orphan, a Metamorphmagus, not a Potter or a Weasley, not even by marriage, but a part Black instead; that was a little too much of _different_ for my own taste as it was. I wasn’t ready to throw _gay_ into the mix as well. But god knows this self-denial has cost me dearly and left me miserable.

The end result was rather pathetic: I’ve never had a date… an attraction... hell, I’ve never had a fuck that would leave me breathless and boneless, and all those things that dating and sex are supposed to be about. When I dated girls, I was faking it. When I was so pathetically needy and horny that my true urges had to come out somehow, it was always hasty, and in a haze of booze, and never quite without a bitter drop of anxiety of being found out.

The closest thing to letting go was that thing… that insane, out-of-control magic my mind and my body followed when I was around Scorpius. And that thought was just bloody scary. Especially in the light of Hugo’s revelation that there was just one other room available… and that I might have to… I might have to… oh, fuck me backwards.

 ~

_"What do you mean you know I’m into blokes?!”_

I nearly fainted when I heard that, I’ll have you know! I mean, I wasn’t _trying_ to listen in. Er, much, I swear it. Though, I might have been tempted to give half of my considerable assets for this information. But Ted’s flabbergasted shriek was just impossible to miss, you know! And now my heart is doing somersaults, and my blood still hasn’t decided whether it is more comfortable rushing to my head, making me dizzy, or to my desperate cock, suddenly filled with pure, unfiltered hope. Hugo was always teasing me about Ted wanting to jump me, but that was just a joke among friends, something for my imagination to indulge in while I could never have the real thing… but this was the real thing.

I can barely recall being bone-tired moments ago. Right now it feels as if there’s a million small charges firing at every inch of my skin, and I just… I don’t know what to do with myself! I spot Al, rolling his eyes, muttering something like _“Jesus, Jamie… Done with his usual grace… Might as well have sent a hippogriff to do the job!”_

Then he walks towards the door and declares: _“_ I’m going to get myself a scone. I can’t deal with piles of drama on an empty stomach.”

As soon as he’s out of the room, I turn towards Hugo, looking for guidance. And – what do you know? – the one and only mischievous Weasley Slytherin at my side doesn’t even look a tiny bit surprised, just amused.

“Well, that worked out better than I expected.” He smirks, and that handsome, freckled face seems particularly pleased. “I guess the cat is out of the bag now.”

“Ted’s into blokes,” I blurt out stupidly. “Like, for real. You knew?”

“Anyone with eyes knows.” He chuckles. “God knows the poor sod tried to hide it, but he’s a healthy young man and sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. I hope he doesn’t get all stupid about that. It’s not like anyone cares.”

“I care,” I mumble before I can stop myself, and it makes him throw back his head and laugh heartily.

“Yeah, I kind of guessed that bit,” he says with a cheeky sparkle in those bluest of blue eyes. “You nearly squeal at the sight of him and you certainly look at him as if he’s a million Galleons worth.”

“Oh, you… shut it! I do _no_ such thing!” I gasp in shock and try to bump his shoulder, but he evades me and it only makes him laugh harder. Bloody Weasleys! Father tried to warn me about the infuriating lot, but I guess it was hard to take him seriously since he ended up marrying one.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” I mutter grudgingly, but then he unexpectedly hugs me around the shoulders, and leans down to me from his freakish height.

“Of course I know what it’s like, silly,” he says with that disarming, sweet honesty that makes it impossible to hold a grudge against him. “I’m nineteen and bonkers about my chosen one. Acting like a love-smitten fool is my second nature.”

You know, if I’d have to describe Hugo, I’d say he was born a grown-up: it’s nearly impossible to imagine him _ever_ acting like a love-smitten fool. But there’s that soft smile on his lips again, and he just… glows, like he always does when he speaks of the mysterious person he’s in love with. It makes me think it must really be someone special to make Hugo Weasley lose his marbles and fall apart at the seams.

“Well, they’d better be good enough,” I mumble. “I’m not giving you away to some undeserving, sub-standard fool.”

And that just makes him roar with laughter yet again.

“Not... undeserving,” he chokes out between bouts of laughter. “Not sub-standard… oh, god… either. And yes... quite good enough, thank you very much. Merlin, what a choice of words… You truly are your father’s son, Malfoy!”

“Well, yes, we happen to be related,” I say dryly. “He raised me. We look alike. Not to mention our love for music – albeit a different genre – and let’s not forget our love of Quidditch, and…”

“... your love for men with temper and colourful hair?” he interrupts, blinking innocently.

When I groan in frustration, he just tilts his head back and roars with laughter yet again.

“Temper and colourful hair? Talking about me behind my back much, eh?”

I almost hit the ceiling and I swear, I barely swallow an undignified squee. I didn’t hear Ted come back, and I spin around so quickly my foot gets tangled in the cable hanging from a microphone stand and before I can help it, I’m tumbling forward… and then I’m not. Much to my dignity’s horror and - oh, god - my cock’s delight, I’m hanging around Ted’s neck, looking into those mesmerising amber eyes up close, with his warm, large hand pressed against my back, safely cradling me from behind. I could die of shame… and of a sudden, dizzying bout of bliss.

“Sorry,” I whisper feebly. “I’m a klutz… and you have amazing reflexes.”

It must be just a second while he stares into my eyes, saying nothing, but it feels like a new reality is forming around us, and I can’t help but simply melting into his body. He smells absolutely delicious, unlike any other person I’ve met before. Just hundred percent Ted: warm, musky and exotic, as if the brilliant, sparkling colours of his hair and eyes had a fragrance, and I have to swallow a helpless mewl. I’d give away a kingdom for a taste of him.

“Quidditch,” he says dreamily. “I play a lot of it.”

But I’ve already forgotten what this information is supposed to be about, because I’m too busy staring at the tiny silver ring anchored around his full lower lip, and I’m just… dying for a kiss.

“Oy, Teddy! You’ve been gay for like five minutes and you’ve already found yourself a boyfriend?!”

You know that feeling when you just want to _murder_ someone? Yeah, _that_ feeling. Right now, I have that feeling regarding James Potter. I’d love to murder the bastard. Not just murder, but… but… _explode_ , or something! How dare he?! He made that warm hand pressing me into the divine heat of Ted’s body disappear, and suddenly I’m standing upright, and on my own, feeling abandoned and like breaking something.

“Shut your gob, Potter!” Ted grunts, but James has got that wide, mischievous _‘I’m your best mate I can totally do this’_ smile painted across his face, and I can tell he’s not ready to quit yet.

“Not quite what I had in mind when I asked you if you were ready to come out, you know.” He chuckles, and his cheerful blue eyes are sparkling with cheeky mirth. “I meant more like _out of that cold hallway_ … ouch!” He finally backs away to a safe distance, still cackling like mad, while nursing his shoulder where Ted’s fist scored a direct hit.

“Don’t be daft, Jamie,” Hugo says sweetly. “The boys were just getting used to the idea of sharing a room. It does, after all, only have one bed.”

And this time I can’t help myself: I actually squeal a little.

Oh god. _Oh. Almighty. God._

~

“What do you mean – it only has one bed?!”

Seriously, what is it with me and howling embarrassing questions today?! But you see, I’m kind of desperate. Or, possibly, poisoned by a mind-melting fragrance of long, blond hair that was pressed against me just moments ago, instantly setting all of my senses on fire. Whichever.

“Because that’s what one-person rooms are like: they only have one bed,” Hugo explains calmly.

He completely ignores the fact that, until now, he _failed_ to mention a tiny little unimportant fact that he only managed to secure a one-person room for _two_ persons. Persons who might have some mad, primal magic going on between them. Merlin’s balls. It just hit me that there are no lucky coincidences when it comes to Hugo. He’s behind this somehow, isn’t he?

“What?! Don’t look at me as if I killed your Crup, Lupin. I told you it was the best I could do, given the circumstances. I’m told the bed is fairly big… you know, for one person. You’re welcome to Apparate to your cosy home – and risk splinching something on the eve of the most important day of your life,” he proposes, with a rogue smile.And I just sigh in despair. It’s hopeless. Hugo is pulling _a Hugo_ again: a shameless act of being entirely unperturbed under a double dose of alarmed, slightly horrified stares.

 “If you’re as tired as you look, you’ll sleep just fine.” He shrugs, already moving towards the door, and happily ignoring the alarming crisis his revelation left behind. “Sharing a bit of body warmth won’t kill you; it’s the middle of the bloody winter! And if you’re such a fucking prude, you can always sleep on the floor.”

He smirks across his shoulder matter-of-factly, and I’d give my right arm to wipe that goddamn smile off his face. He looks every bit like a Kneazle who just ate a nest of mice.

I might consider giving it a fair attempt, but at that moment Al barges through the door.

“Oh my god, guys, there’s a white limo waiting in front of the house for us! All the neighbours are at their windows! It’s a good thing the house is under a spell.”

A limo?

“A Muggle car,” Hugo explains on his way out, sounding uncommonly pleased. “Kind of long and classy, really. I told you I got us proper transport.”

A Muggle car! For a moment, I forget my woes. I’ve never sat in one, really, but I’ve always wanted to. _JesusMerlin_ , this is like, half a train! Long, polished to a shine; it looks as classy as they come. A bit of magic must have been added to it, because the doors open on their own, and we just fly towards it, excited like a bunch of pre-Hogwarts kids. Merlin’s shiny Thestral, you should see the inside! It’s got more space than some people’s living rooms, the seats are super-comfortable, and it comes with snacks, drinks and shaded windows. Talk about luxury!

Jamie clearly wants to make it up to me, as he slips into a seat next to me, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am – right until Scorpius takes his place next to Al, and smiles at me shyly. It isn’t until then that it hits me that I’m going to have to spend the entire ride – god knows how long? – staring at that mesmerising face with no excuse to avert my eyes. Er, not like my eyes insist on being averted, no…

Actually, I have to keep forcing them away from the generous, soft lips on that pale, perfectly chiselled face, only to have them slide down that long elegant neck. It’s so pearly white that the skin is nearly transparent and I can see a delicate blue shade of a tender vein at the pit of it that pulls my eyes to it like a magnet and, for some reason, drives me crazy. I can’t focus on the uncommonly artistic hands either; not without wanting to kiss the gentle curve of the knuckles. When I finally give up and look at him, I nearly drown in the deep, silver pools of his eyes, lit up like moonshine in the semi-darkness of the Muggle car, and for a moment I nearly forget my own name. After that, I just can’t stop staring.

He really is breathtakingly beautiful; perhaps too beautiful for a man. He isn’t manly handsome, like Jamie, or boyishly cute like Al, nor is he a shameless sex-advertisement like Hugo. His beauty is of the classical, timeless sort that transcends the ages and reaches well into the old age. Scorpius Malfoy would be have been considered beautiful a thousand years ago, and I’m willing to bet he’s going to look barely touched by time even a hundred years from now. It’s not just the perfect, marble complexion that makes him beautiful, nor that flawless poise, the tall, narrow frame, the silken blond hair I can barely resist touching, or the precious silver of his enchanting eyes. There is something inside of him… some serenity, some grace… some… quiet, powerful _something_ that simply calls my name, and makes a nervous wreck out of me at the mere idea of spending a night next to him. It isn’t him who scares me, it’s my own uncontrollable desire to reach out and touch that drives me mental. What if I can’t hold myself back?

“Ouch!” I cry out in the next moment when Jamie’s elbow hits my ribs painfully and he leans into me, whispering none too discreetly: “For your information: you’re staring again. Just saying.”

Oh, Merlin’s oversized balls, if James noticed… He can’t even notice his own untied shoelaces… I’m suddenly desperate for a distraction, and the universe answers my call when Hugo slips into a seat on the other side of me, and smiles enthusiastically.

“Sorry about the delay, last minute arrangements,” he says, and in the next moment: “Move over a little, will you?”

“I can’t,” I complain. I’ve found myself sandwiched between two Keepers with Weasley genes and a combined shoulder-width of a minor house, so for all the car’s apparent space, there really isn’t any way for me to squeeze in further.

“Now, that won’t work,” Hugo says firmly. “It’s a bloody long trip in this Muggle monster. You: out, and to this side.”

Much to my horror, I realise that he’s pointing to Scorpius, who seems stunned for a second, but doesn’t object. In the next moment, they’ve flipped places and I’m nearly knocked out by that killer fragrance of silken, blond hair that instantly makes an idiot out of me.

“Sorry,” Scorpius says quietly. “I’ll try my best not to be in the way.”

Not going to happen, love; the very scent of you is in the way of my bewitched, horny cock… God, would you believe the bullshit my befuddled brain comes up with?!

“Much better,” Hugo proclaims happily, stretching his long limbs, and then knocking on a long, shaded glass plate separating our compartment from the driver. 

“Dad, we’re good to go,” he says with a cheeky smile.

_“Dad?!”_

We literally squeal like a pack of hysterical old ladies – and for a good reason, too!

“Hello, boys.”

Ron Weasley waves at us happily when the glass plate between the two compartments slides open. The sight of his bright head – complete with a shockingly silly Muggle-driver hat – makes everyone gasp and exchange a panicked look, like in one of those Muggle horror movies when people realise they’ve been trapped by a madman.

Oh god. I’m going to die young.

Everybody knows Hugo’s dad is an enthusiastic driver, but his bad, utterly mad driving is a thing of legends, and campsite horror stories, and right now we’re all busy glowering at Hugo murderously. But, as you might imagine, our looks of sincere dread and doom have little effect on the indestructible redheaded menace who made it to the healthy age of nineteen in spite of his father’s health-hazard driving.

“Since you won’t let your dad help out, I asked mine.” He looks at Al pointedly, wearing a sweet, cheeky smile on his freckled face, and he takes Al’s angry elbow to the ribs without even flinching. “We need all the support we can get if this is to be a success, and it doesn’t get better than family.”

“Yeah, but did you have to let your dad _drive_?!” Jamie hisses, again none too quietly. “Couldn’t he levitate suitcases or some such?! You’ll know he’ll likely kill us all!”

“Hey!” Ron says, with genuine indignance in his voice. “I’ll have you boys know I’m an excellent driver!”

“No, you’re not,” a calm, posh voice says and a moment later the blond head of Scorpius’ father appears in the opening. “You’re deadly, love. But that’s why I’m here. No worries, boys, I’ve got my magic at the ready.” He points at his wand and smiles thinly. “I’m most certainly not willing to risk my only son’s life just because my deluded husband thinks he can somehow navigate this Muggle calamity through the horrid Muggle traffic. Still, he wouldn’t be deterred and he is entirely determined to try, and I regret to report that I’m uncommonly inclined towards making his every wish come true, however demented. Having said that – you would do well to shut up, James Potter,” he says sternly. “This is your uncle and he loves you very much. I won’t have my husband insulted while he’s trying to help.”

“Right,” Jamie mumbles, sounding equal bits ashamed and relieved. “Sorry, Uncle Ron.”

“No offence,” Hugo’s father says lightly. “Let’s just go, shall we? I’m dying to try this thing out!”

And in the next moment we’re all busy screeching in mortal fear again when the limo pulls away rather abruptly.

“Now, take it down a notch, love,” I can hear Draco instruct his husband coolly before the opening between two compartments closes again. “We said there wasn’t going to be any racing with this contraption.”

I decide it’s best not to look out the window, because if this will be my last hour in this world, maybe it’s better if I don’t see it coming. I lean my head back instead and try not to inhale the sweet, bone-melting scent of Scorpius’ long blond hair too deeply. It’s a lost cause. If there’s anything I have inherited from my werewolf father it’s a keen sense of smell, and Scorpius’s fragrance is pure delight. I close my eyes to not be tempted to look in his direction, but I must be more exhausted than I realised.

When I open my eyes again, it’s pitch black outside, and there’s nothing but very subtle light illuminating the back of the car. The first thing I notice is the soft, warm weight leaning on me: Scorpius fell asleep with the rest of us, and is currently huddled against my shoulder.

I can’t pretend that I didn’t notice him, so I steal a quick glance at the blond head pressed into me, and I’m swept away by a sudden surge of protectiveness and awe. Resting trustingly on my shoulder, with that thick fan of impossibly long eyelashes throwing tender shadows down his cheeks, he looks absolutely sublime. I find it hard to tear my eyes away from him, and mostly, I just want to touch those warm, soft lips, curiously curved into a gentle smile in his sleep. He’s a proper honeytrap when he sleeps. I have to look away or I’ll be lost for good.

I force myself to look around, only to find every one of my band mates sleeping. Everyone but Hugo, that is.

He’s observing me with those clever, inscrutable sapphire eyes and I have the usual, incomprehensible feeling that he knows _exactly_ how I feel. I don’t know how he does that, and it should really make me uncomfortable, come to think of it; only it doesn’t. Beside a sharp sense of smell, I got another thing from my father: instinct; an almost infallible sense to assess the situation and people’s intentions correctly. And all my instincts are telling me Hugo Weasley means no harm. Sure, he can be an obstinate brat sometimes, and his intelligence is just annoying, but apart from that, he’s just about the nicest guy one could come across. Bold, clever, protective…

“I’ll fucking kill you if you hurt him, Lupin.”

Huh?! Er...

I’m fairly certain the look on my face must be comical, as I’ve had no warning of this verbal aggression, but Hugo doesn’t really smile. He just smirks, and there’s a dangerous, adamant spark in his eyes when he leans forward minutely to make sure I get what he’s saying, in spite of his soft voice.

“I will not let you hurt him again, Ted. He’s too precious. And I’m not talking about his singing and whatever the hell you two get up to on the stage. Outside of that, he’s magnificent. _And…_ he’s also family. Perhaps he can give you what you want. Be sure to remember that.”

I… don’t have words. Am I really that fucking transparent?!

Scorpius stirs at my side, and those big, silver eyes open for a second. He doesn’t appear to register where he is, he just presses his face further into my shoulder and goes back to sleep, looking perfectly content.

I swear, he’s every bit like a cuddly Kneazle. Any minute now he’ll start purring.

“I told you – too fucking precious.” Hugo smiles brightly from across the car. “Just give him a chance.” 

~

“Scorpius, wake up!”

What?! Where…?

So, uhm… this is embarrassing. I barely know where I am. I just remember thinking how warm Ted’s body felt against mine, and I do recall barely being able to hide a smile when he didn’t object to me moving to sit by his side. But the next thing I know, I’m being gently shaken awake by someone’s warm hand. Only slowly do I begin to register that I’ve spent most of the journey leaning onto Ted’s shoulder, slumbering away happily as if I somehow belonged there. Oh, Lord have mercy…

I should have jumped away, if I had any sense of courtesy. But it’s like my head has found the exact spot it wants to spend the rest of his life at, and somehow my muscles refuse to move. Not to mention that I’m still seven kinds of drowsy from the exhausting day, warm, happy, and – well, I can’t think of a reason why I would be willing to move.

I chance a sheepish, sleepy glance at Ted, but I’m not sure it’s quite as apologetic as the circumstances demand it. Sadly, I’m enjoying my position way too much for that. But, much to my surprise, his eyes meet mine as if they were on me this entire time anyway, and I do the one thing I’m really good at: I blush like a virgin.

“We’re almost there,” he says in a way of explanation.

I’m so relieved to hear that he doesn’t sound too annoyed that I barely register what he is saying. There… where? Oh, there!

“Sorry,” I mumble, trying to put some half-arsed effort into sitting myself up and straight again.

It’s not really going well, and for some reason my clumsy tumbling about makes him shoot a small, amused smile before he quickly looks away. Which, consequently, makes me drop all honest attempts and drool.

Ted Lupin is just _the cutest_ thing ever when he smiles, I’ll have you know. _The. Cutest._ It makes his supple lips with that maddening ring look absolutely delicious, and – oh, look! – he’s got two boyish dimples in his cheeks! There’s barely a hint of a smile, but it makes his hazel eyes sparkle like gold and his hair turns fiery red as if he’s a tiny bit embarrassed to be caught smiling. I could just sit at the back of the Muggle car all day and watch him smile. But because I’m cursed that way, James yawns loudly in that moment, startling his brother awake in the process, and breaking our precious moment.

“In case it’s… er, crowded like the last time, I trust you all know the drill?” Hugo asks in his most business-like voice.

“Crowded?! It was bloody mayhem out there! I nearly got suffocated the second I got out of the car,” James mumbles, scrunching his nose. “I had no idea birds could be so violent.”

Er – what?

“You’re a Potter with supposedly bottomless reserves of courage; you’ll manage.” Hugo waves his hand at him dismissively. “Let’s hope it won’t be too mad out there, since it’s late. But we still better do this quickly. According to the hotel’s Apparition policy, we can’t just Apparate into our respective rooms, but I suggest you make a quick business of pushing through the crowd of fans and reporters up the stairs. We should be all right once we’re inside the hotel. I’ll throw Dad and Draco at them as a distraction. It should buy us a couple of seconds.”

Wait a minute – fans and press?! Oh, Merlin’s beloved bald mother, what did I sign up for?!

As soon as the car stops and the door opens, I realise I really had _no_ idea what I signed up for.

There must be several hundred people out there, all of them screaming. Mostly, there are young people, barely more than kids, or perhaps our age. But quite a few seem to be from the newspapers and the wireless as well, flashing cameras – shouting questions at Hugo, who steps out first – and the sudden bout of anxiety that washes over me completely petrifies me. I don’t want to go out there _and do this_. _MerlinJesus,_ how am I supposed to deal with something like this?! And even sing in front of this… mad crowd?!

“I’ve got you,” a calm voice says behind me. “I know it’s a little crazy out there at the moment, but that’s as crazy as it gets, apart from standing on the stage. And they can’t reach you up there. Just relax and walk out there like you own them.”

Ted – of all people – came to my rescue. I shoot him an anxious, pleading look without really knowing what I’m asking for, but he seems to understand better than I do what I want.

“I’m right behind you. I won’t let them get to you, I promise.”

I look into his eyes, once again amber-coloured with determination, and I nod with a knot in my throat. I’m willing to do this just for him.

I step outside of the car… and it’s just a jungle out there. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this. I’m completely dazed and unable to move because the chaos is so bloody overwhelming. But then I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, and Ted breathes against my ear:

“I’m here. You’ll be fine. It’s just a few steps to the entrance. Just move and it will all be over in a jiffy.”

I gulp and take the first tentative step up the stairs.

“Ted, who’s your friend!?”

“Is that your new member?”

“Has anyone quit?”

“What’s your name, blondie?”

“Oh my god, is that _Malfoy’s son_?! He looks just like him!”

“Ted! Teddy! Can you please, _please_ sign my shoulder? I’ve been waiting for hours!”

Merlin, I feel like closing my eyes, because they’re making me positively mad with anxiety, but I’m afraid I’ll trip over and cause a scandal, so I just… I just focus on the feeling of Ted’s warm hand. The tender press of it against my shoulder is enough to keep me going. Just a few more steps. I can do this. Merlin, please... I hope I can do this.

“Yeah, that’s Scorpius,” I suddenly hear Hugo’s booming voice behind us. “He’s such an ace. A bit shy around the crowd, but seriously, you should see him on stage. He’s incredible. No, I can’t be with the band tomorrow; I’ve said so. Sad, isn’t it? Well, that’s life for you. But Scorpius kindly agreed to help us out and take over, and I can tell you one thing: he can more than do the job. The band loves him. Yes, he’s a Malfoy. Why does that matter? I imagine fans won’t care much about his surname once they see him perform. He’s giving it two hundred percent up there on the stage! He’s going to be a favourite with the girls, I can already tell you that! He’s far better than I ever was… No, he’s not Ted’s boyfriend… yet. Or maybe? You’ll have to ask them!”

“Merlin’s beard, did he say _Malfoy_?!” I hear that horrible wench Skeeter screeching, and from the corner of my eye I can spot her turning towards me like a harpy heading for its prey. “Hold the front page! I need an interview! Get out of the way, he’s mine!”

“Scorpius! Scorpius Malfoy, can you sing at all?! Did Daddy buy you a place in the band? Any feuds with the Potter boys yet?”

And finally, god fucking finally, not a moment too soon, the door of the hotel closes behind us. I nearly collapse. My legs are seriously shaking as if I ran a marathon, and my heart is pounding in my ears. Fuck, this was… intense.

“Merlin… she’s a nightmare,” I mumble, and even my voice is shaking from my ordeal.

“Hey… Are you all right?”

Ted sounds genuinely concerned, and I realise that his hand never left my shoulder. I’m not in much of a state to speak, given that I’m barely breathing, but I nod gratefully. Just like that, he unexpectedly pulls me into a hug. God, yes… _this_. This is exactly what I need right now. A warm, dark embrace, a moment of peace and quiet in his arms, the feeling of safety and that quiet magic slowly beginning to course between us again, healing me, and making my heart crave more.

“Shh… I got you, yeah? You’re safe now. She’s not allowed in, none of them are,” he says quietly. “Damn… Hugo should have warned you,” he suddenly mutters angrily. “How could he possibly think you could handle this?”

“He wouldn’t have gone anywhere near it if I told him what to expect,” Hugo says behind us, calmly. “And I needed him out there with us tonight. I needed to show people that he was a legitimate part of the band before that Skeeter bitch got it all wrong.”

And though I hate him a little bit right now, I have to admit he’s right. I wouldn’t have had the nerve to do this. I’d risk long-distance Apparition and whatnot to avoid taking those few steps out of the car. I know it’s hard to believe me right now, safely tucked in Ted’s embrace, but I’m painfully shy. My brain just refuses to remember it when Ted is around.

I know it can’t last, but I’m desperate for a few more moments in his arms; for a chance to inhale that wild, earthy, wonderful scent of him that has been such an unexpected gift. So, I’m standing there, still wrapped in Ted’s embrace, perfectly still and silent, just... hanging most of my weight on him, hoping against hope they might forget all about me for a moment longer, and I’ll get my wish.

“Where are the Potter nutjobs?” Ted wants to know, but Hugo just laughs in reply.

“Still out there. You know they’d never own up to it, but they love this bit. Jamie does, anyway; he loves everything about it. Talking to the press, signing the autographs, chatting up girls. And Al would never pass up on a chance to compete with his brother, even though he’s not a natural at it, like Jamie is. I wouldn’t wait for them. I understand they have an... er, eventful night planned.”

“Right,” Ted mumbles. “I got too much information on that subject already, thank you very much. I might have to scrub my brain at some point; I doubt _Obliviate_ alone would do the job! So… shall I just take this one up to our room, then? Blimey... I think… I think he might have fallen asleep on his feet!”

“By all means, I want you both well rested tomorrow. And that doesn’t mean getting up at dawn, _as some like to, you sleepless nutter_!” Hugo says sternly, but then he adds, in a gentler voice, “Room number eight, just down this corridor. Carry him, if you must, but let him have his rest. He’s had a couple of rough days, and I need him in his best condition tomorrow. And Ted, whatever you do, be nice to him. You know I’ll know.”

God, Hugh is just… he’s just an angel sometimes. Annoying angel, to be sure, but still, an angel.

“Spoken like your mother's son and a true terrorist,” Ted sighs grudgingly, but without sounding bitter, and then he adds as if it just dawned on him: “You won’t stay here tonight?”

“Nope,” Hugo says in his best _“this conversation is over”_ tone, but for some reason it doesn’t really come out as stern, and he doesn’t really have to spell out where he’s going, at least not to me; I can tell from the warm, golden smile in his voice. “I’m... _expected_ elsewhere.”

“Clever bastard,” Ted mutters. “Avoiding the tiny, one-person rooms to be sure…”

“Not really.” Hugo chuckles softly, almost dreamily. “I hope to be cuddled against someone shortly, as tightly as I can be, seeking out whatever warmth I can get in this hellish cold. I certainly hope the warming charms work properly for you tomorrow, or you’ll freeze up there on the stage. Now, be good, you hear me? Don’t do anything I would do and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll drop by at noon to check on you before I’m off to my business.”

“All right.” Ted sighs. “See you, you secretive bastard. Now, _you_. Oh, man… I knew you were trouble from the second I laid my eyes on you. What am I supposed to do with you?”

It takes me a moment before I realise that he’s talking to me… about me? And that moment is all I get. The next thing I know, Teddy Lupin sweeps me up into his arms with care and quickly proceeds to carry me across the hotel lobby.

 _Oh.My.God._ I think I could just die right now.

~


	5. "I lose control..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter (the one bearing the title of this story) is by a German band Scorpions and it's titled "You and I" and it obviously belongs to their owners. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended - just having a bit of fun with it since it's such a lovely song and it fits so well. *sheepish grin*

Yeah, I know I look like a damn fool carrying another man in my arms, thank you very much, no need to stare. It looks twice as weird, as the Malfoy brat dressed up like a 1970s Muggle rock star, with a long, white fur coat, currently dragging on the floor, and leather pants so tight they might as well be painted on those gorgeous long legs. Oh, damn, I can’t help but drool over them like a fool... I know I’m a wizard and that I might have easily whipped my wand out and levitate this sleepy-head to our room… but fuck me backwards if I’m going to pass up on what might be my only chance to cradle that tempting round arse in my hands. So, no, I’ll pass up on the magic this once.

Besides, I _might_ have another reason I don’t want to let him go. The way he cuddled up against me was just too damn precious. I can’t bring myself to give it up quite yet. I hated seeing him so lost and shaken up, so I closed my arms around him before I realised what I was doing. But he just let me hold him like a love-starved puppy, and now I can’t… I can’t let him go. Not just yet.

The second his slim arms slipped around me and that beautiful blond head leaned into the crook of my neck, I was done for. It was as if something in me connected to something in him, perfectly so, and as I hold him in my arms I’m hopelessly defenceless against a charge of magic, lust and inexplicable attraction flowing through me. How is it possible for this… complete stranger in everything but a name, to fit so damn right with me? He’s like a temptation I can’t resist, and the way he just surrenders to me, trusting and soft like a kitten, foolishly makes me think he doesn’t want me to put up a fight against whatever flows between us.

I have no way of knowing what he’s really thinking; I know next to nothing about this young man that snuck into my world and made such a spectacular wreck out of it. Is he even into men? He could be sending me mixed signals for all I know because I barely know his name! But I can certainly tell you how he makes me feel: everything about him just… drives me wild.

I don’t know how he does it, but he just _calls_ to my most primal instincts. Merlin, this is infuriating, but being close to him makes such confusing feelings course through me that I should really run from him screaming. But as angelic-looking as he is, he also ignites that slow-burning passion at the pit of my balls that sets my senses on fire. Somehow, this quiet creature with silver eyes evokes some mad, uncontrollable yearning at the bottom of my heart that I didn’t know I was capable of. How can deny myself a taste of this?

The second that pretty blond head found its way onto my shoulder, his fragrance rolled over me like a subtle, sweet poison I had no way of fighting. The very thought of those pretty lips exhaling warm, moist air onto my skin simply shut down my brain and put my cock at half-mast. It was not a question of me letting him go, it was a question of how the hell I was ever supposed to! I couldn’t think straight, and I couldn’t imagine tearing away.

So, I picked him up as gently as I could, ignoring the stares and the whispers, and now I’m carrying him across the lobby as quickly as I can. He’s all long, lean muscles and no weight, as light as a feather – but perhaps it’s just me, feeling dazed as if I’m walking on a cloud.

I can’t be bothered with a key, so I just try “ _Alohomora!”_ and when the door of the hotel room, number eight, opens without delay, it feels a little bit like destiny. The room is indeed tiny, barely more than a broom closet with a small bathroom at the side, but it appears clean and it must have enough magic built into it to feel the door open. A single, weak candle in the lantern by the bed-stand flickers on, shedding light upon modest furniture, including a good-sized bed – for one person.

Look, I know what to do with him; I have Hugo’s instructions to follow, and I know they’re sensible. In that respect, heading for the bed is the right thing to do. But I just don’t know what to do with myself. If I’m ever going to tear away from him, I have to do it quickly, or I’ll run out of every ounce of determination I have. God, I need to… I at least need to try.

I lay him down onto the bed, not bothering with the covers, but I feel a bone-deep ache at the very thought of pulling away as if there are invisible strings tying us together that are impossible to break. And then I realise it was never going to be this easy. His arms are still wrapped around me, pulling me down, if only by the weight of my own desire, and I can’t… Merlin, I just can’t… How am I supposed to do this? And then those mesmerising eyes open, and I can see the feeble light flickering in the depths of glittering silver with my own spellbound face reflecting in them. So, he wasn’t sleeping after all, the little trickster… But I realise I don’t care… apart from the fact that I no longer have an excuse for all but lying on top of him.

“Hugo said to let you rest,” I say feebly, and I swear I try to make a move... but it only comes out as a half-arsed attempt to get away from him. So, it doesn’t take much: as soon as he shakes his head ever so slightly, I just give up on the spot.

“Stay,” he says quietly, and my body obeys, as pliant as if I have none of my own will left. So much for trying to get away from him.

“Thank you,” he whispers next, and I just nod, not really knowing what he’s thanking me for. But then he smiles, and explains: “For earlier. For keeping me safe… and for carrying me here. And for this… now.”

I don’t even know when his fingers slipped into my hair, but for as light as their touch is, they’re sending sparks of desire straight down my spine. My skin literally bristles to life, and my breathing turns short and heavy. I’m barely able to keep my hunger for him at bay.

“Such pretty hair,” he speaks dreamily, as if in awe, never taking his eyes off my face. “So shiny and spellbinding – I could watch it for hours... so intensely colourful... so very much alive. Just like you. I’ve been dreaming about sinking my fingers into your hair ever since I first saw you.”

He smiles beautifully, not at all aware that he already took my breath away.

“On Platform 9 ¾. You were boarding the Hogwarts Express for the last time, and I was there for my first trip to Hogwarts. I was eleven, no more. And I’ve dreamed of you ever since.”

Merlin’s wand, so it isn’t just me. Only, he’s not a coward like I am; he’s not willing to hold it back and his innocence breaks my heart. He’s just so… open with me, so honest, so… exposed… and it’s all for me, so I have to be the brave one. I have to. I’m twenty-nine years old and I’ve never kissed a man without feeling shame and anxiety... but I’m about to. I can’t resist him.

I lean down and press a tiny, lingering kiss onto that soft, tempting mouth, giving him every chance in the book to change his mind. But he doesn’t seem to care for a way out. His pretty, rosy lips respond immediately as if he was hoping for my bravery, waiting for me to make a move. And when he moans quietly into our kiss, it’s... Merlin... I don’t even know what it is, but it seems to have a direct line to my cock. That sweet, eager mouth is messing with my brain, and I can’t think… Whatever this is, it feels as if I’ve been waiting for it my whole life.

“You like boys,” he whispers straight into my mouth, and I gasp a hasty _“Yes!”_ between two gentle, tentative kisses in case this was a question and he was still having any kind of doubts.

“You think you could like this boy?” he breathes next, and it’s my time to moan.

I promptly delve into another godless kiss to save my soul, because I want to show him that he shouldn’t even have to ask. I have no idea how our kissing went from slow, sensual, probing kisses to this sloppy, needy mess, but he gives me no sign that we’re going too fast. Which is just as well; I don’t think I can stop.

His hands slip onto my shoulders and he’s holding onto me for dear life, those long fingers resting above my pulse-point. It’s the moment I feel my life under his slender hands and I realise I’m putting in them all my hopes and dreams. The realisation is so blinding I tear away from him for a second to take a good look at the stunning young man my heart chose so unequivocally. But, if there was ever a flicker of fear that perhaps I’m wrong – that maybe he’s not the one – it’s all gone with a single look at his face. There’s an alluring pink tinge to those high cheeks and pure magic in those silver, half-lidded eyes. His supple lips are glossy and swollen from our fervent kissing, and he’s just… God, he’s a vision.

His eyes suddenly focus on my lips, and he swallows nervously.

“I’ve never been with a man,” he blurts out in a soft voice, and then he looks me straight in the eye. “I’ve never been with anyone.”

Wait, what?! What?? That’s just… Is this Malfoy boy trying to kill me?! Well, it’s working. Consider me dead. I’ve practically stopped breathing. Only my cock didn’t get the message yet; it clearly seems to think being someone’s first is a spectacular idea. Pure, liquid hot need runs from the bottom of my balls to the very tip of my shaft and it’s suddenly pressing against the fabric of my trousers with such urgency, I think I could come if someone as much as looked at my hard rod.

How is it even possible for someone this stunning to still be… untouched? I’m the first. He wants me to be his first. I just can’t wrap my mind around this idea.

I must have betrayed my shock somehow – seriously, that bloody hair of mine! – because there’s suddenly a tinge of despair in those precious silver eyes, and his fingers are clutching my shoulders with twice the strength.

“Please, don’t leave,” he says hastily. “I know I don’t know much, but I can learn…”

His voice withers away and for a moment there, he looks utterly miserable. But I… I just gawp at him, trying in vain to come up with words.

“Not going to leave, am I?” I finally manage to choke out, and watching his magical eyes fill with hope is the most heart-breaking thing ever. “I mean… I’d be crazy to. Have you seen yourself lately? Like – for real, man,” I keep blathering, desperately trying to make some sense. “You’re, like… hotter than the sun, or something. I just don’t get it how someone so bloody gorgeous never… you know… scored… uhm… or whatever.”

Now it’s my time to blush, but he’s already smiling like a loon, and it’s just ridiculously adorable.

“So, you think I’m pretty?” he says smugly, but there’s that cute pink tinge on his cheeks, speaking of how shy he really is, and the way he tries to flutter his eyelashes makes me chuckle.

“I believe I said _gorgeous_ ,” I murmur, but the radiant smile he rewards me with makes me promptly steal another kiss from that pretty, tempting mouth.

“Scorpius Malfoy, you’re a shameless flirt,” I tell him, trying in vain to sound as if I’m scolding him, but his fingers slide down my spine tentatively, all the way to the small of my back, as if exploring a whole new terrain and the knowledge that it’s his first time doing this, makes me mewl into his mouth. I barely have any thoughts left, and you can just forget about the words!

“Don’t forget a certified cheat,” he whispers, and his wild, beautiful smile, makes me want to eat it off those tempting lips. “And I have no excuse other than I _loved_ being carried by you... oh, and that the Malfoys generally enjoy to be spoiled… Are you willing to spoil me, Ted?"

“Oh, I’ll spoil you,” I promise him, my voice practically a low grunt because he just brings out the beast in me. “I’ll spoil you and ruin you for everyone else.”

His breath hitches as if he knew I meant every word of it, and when he bites his lip and whispers: _“Promise?”_ he looks so vulnerable and sinfully beautiful at the same time, I’m just about ready to tear his clothes off.

“Oh, yeah,” I whisper.

I’m probably as eloquent as a new-born troll and I can’t find any clever words, but I kiss him like there’s no tomorrow and I hope he understands how precious I find him. As soon as our tongues touch, it’s like there’s a charge running to every inch of my body, and I can feel my nipples getting hard. For a man with no experience, Scorpius Malfoy certainly got on top of this kissing thing with blinding speed. Perhaps it’s me, indulging in a kiss with another man, fully aware and on board with what I’m doing for the first time, but I don’t think anyone’s _ever_ tasted sweeter. The way he lets me plunder his mouth literally makes my vision blur.

“More,” he says hungrily when I try to come up for some air, and he pulls on my lip with those sharp, white teeth. “I want more… more of you. I’ve waited long enough.”

Merlin, such savagery… from a Malfoy… It kind of melts the rest of my working brain.

“Yes, I…”

“Now,” the bossy little brat whispers, but he’s too fucking beautiful to resist.

Seriously, if he told me to jump off the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, I would have probably done it without blinking. I don’t seem to have much of my own mind left, and I love, love, _love_ this sassy attitude on him.

“Take off my clothes. I want to watch you do it.”

I barely bite back a moan, but when my shaky fingers begin working the tiny pearly buttons of his expensive silk shirt, he bites his bottom lip, an image of temptation, and says quietly: “Sorry I’m so bossy. Please, don’t be angry with me… It’s just… I’ve pictured you doing it so many times, for years now, and I guess I’m a tiny bit… impatient. Forgive me?”

“Not angry…” I gasp, because I really have to hold myself back not to simply _ravage_ him. “I just… I like it a little too much, and I’m… _ohmyfuckingGod_!”

He just casually ran his fingers across the pulsing bulge in my trousers, and I promptly forgot my own name.

“May I?” he asks quietly, but there’s such hunger and intensity in those darkened, heavily-lidded eyes that I just nod with a knot in my throat.

“Please,” I barely manage through gritted teeth, and that’s pretty much the end of my eloquence.

In the next moment, the blond incubus manages to open my trousers with those adept fingers, and the only thing between my heavy cock and the narrow, elegant palm of his hand is the thin layer of ridiculously tented fabric of my pants. He’s in no hurry to get rid of it at first, but runs his hand up and down the bulge probingly, as if he isn’t aware that everything he does is just right. I’m already seeing fucking stars.

“Oh, God…” I choke out because the desire to finally have my cock out in the open, to finally get a chance to plunge it into the tightness of his hand, is simply overwhelming.

“Scorpius will do.”

The little devil smiles angelically, but when his fingers casually slip inside my pants, he hums appreciatively, closes his eyes... and sets my cock free. And I swear I nearly blow my load at the first contact with his tight, heavenly fist. I certainly whimper as if I have no dignity left. But then he looks at me again, and the expression on his face seems smitten. His pretty lips, puffy from our feverish kissing, part as if he suddenly grew hungry at the sight of my shaft. With that long blond hair, he looks every bit like a decadent angel descended from heaven, and I whimper again, unable to find words to tell him how unforgettable I find him.

“Merlin, Ted,” he whispers, looking positively enchanted. “It’s so big... I never knew… I never touched any… so thick… my fingers barely fit around it. Oh, man... this is going to be _so_ tight.”

Tight, yes! This is what I’m hoping for; a tight warm cage around my cock is what I desperately need. And he doesn’t disappoint… oh, God… no… As soon as his fingers wrap around my swollen shaft, I realise I’ve met a fucking wanking prodigy… oh, yeah… there’s some God-given talent if there ever was one… _ohMerlinfuckyes…_ My befuddled brain is so far beyond any elaborate function – like speaking, for example – that I just growl like an animal, because I haven’t had any in a while, and I certainly never, _ever_ had any that felt so bloody good.

My skin feels like it’s on fire and I literally can’t recall ever being so half-mad with lust. My eyes closed at some point and right now there’s no fucking thing more important than pistoning my hips back and forth, pushing my cock through the narrow tunnel of his hand. I’m so close to heaven I can almost taste it. I couldn’t stop if someone held a wand to my head, I wouldn’t… not for anything… until…

“Will you touch mine… please…?"

He sounds breathless and just the right sort of pleading, and my eyes snap open as soon as I realise what an evil, selfish fool I’ve been. Merlin, Ted, you idiot, you’re fucking this up!

“God, I’m sorry!” I blurt out, looking into the clouded silver eyes again, suddenly panicking that I’ve bollocksed this up, and that this magical, unreal experience will somehow come to an end. Fuck my pride, I’m more than willing to beg for forgiveness if I have to!

“I’m so sorry,” I’m babbling, ready to blather any damn thing to keep this… even the truth. “It’s just… you’re so insanely beautiful… and you feel so incredibly good… and I need it so badly… you have no idea. Or, perhaps you do. God, I lost it. I’m sorry, baby, I nearly lost it. It’s your first time and I’m such a damn selfish fool… please… forgive me?”

I lean down to kiss him thoroughly, to apologise the best I can, and I don’t care if my fucking swollen cock, screaming for release, falls off, because the bastard nearly utterly embarrassed me and it would bloody suit the selfish fucker right! But Scorp’s pliant, sweet mouth speaks of nothing but forgiveness, and I nearly give in once again and allow myself to get lost in it. But then those narrow hips rise from the surface in a slow, sensual movement, deliberately brushing against my purple, leaking rod. I feel a hot, pulsing bulge rub against me and I’m suddenly out of all other priorities: I need to see it… I need to taste it, I need to give it what it wants. I want to make Scorpius Malfoy scream and beg tonight.

Somewhere at the back of my stupid head, I remember I was already undressing him before he touched me _there_ , so I allow my hands to roam down the hot silken skin of his body, exploring every beautiful, breath-taking detail of him. I wasn’t lying: I’ve never been with someone so striking. His alabaster skin is practically flawless, other than a tiny birthmark by his left nipple… and another diagonally down his torso, at the pit of his hip. I visit the one at his tiny, dusky nub first. The perky little pebble seems to turn erect the second I blow on it and I’m in awe at how wonderfully sensitive it is.

I slowly take it into my mouth and suck on it gently, and… _ohhhh…_ the pretty blond angel underneath me doesn’t mind getting loud. There’s no denying how much he likes that, and when his fingers crawl into my hair again to keep my head right where it is, I decide to give the lovely, budding nubs a proper treatment. I begin laving them with my tongue gently, licking like a playful kitten, first one… and then the other… working them with my tongue and my fingers, applying only minimum pressure… only to scrape my teeth against the one in my mouth probingly, and it makes him throw his head back and moan wantonly. Bingo.

His skin literally erupts in goosebumps, and when I begin working the gorgeous little pleasure buttons in earnest, I wonder just how sensitive they really are... His skin seems to have gotten that alluring pink tinge I know all too well, and unless I’m wrong he’s not far from coming. Oh, yeah, baby… come play with me… the frantic way in which his hips roll into mine are a clear indication that I’m not wrong, and that Scorpius is one of those lucky bastards who could probably come just from having his nipples tormented with loving care. Good to know… for later. Right now, I have other plans.

“No, please!” he gasps frantically when I finally let go of them, and admire my work. His nipples are no longer tiny, pale buds, but pink, shiny from my saliva, and as hard as pebbles.

“Later, love,” I promise him, and he finally wails in defeat, allowing his fingers, tangled in my hair, to release some of the pressure on my scalp.

Don’t get me wrong: I’d love to make him come like this, but he’s just too much of a masterpiece to just focus on one thing, no matter how randy watching him enjoy it makes me. Merlin, but he’s designed to be admired and spoiled! Everything on him is slender and long, except for the shoulders, not quite Weasley dimensions yet, but hinting at some sort of sport activity. He’s got one of those naturally lean bodies that never gain any weight, and the definition of the muscles in his stomach is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. So, I dive right in... and I soon find out that I can’t get enough of tasting him.

My head eagerly moves down his body, my mouth exploring every point of interest it can find, and I’m slowly becoming addicted to the feeling of velvety skin bursting to life under my touch. I love how ticklish his sensitive sides are, and the protruding hipbones fit right into my mouth, so I suck on them until it makes him mewl. My next stop is the navel. I delve right into it with my tongue, making him release another sweet, pleading wail that goes straight to my cock – and then there’s only a short way to the edge of the low-cut leather trousers, hiding the ultimate treasure.

Merlin’s iron balls – if Scorpius takes anything after his father, there’s little wonder why Ron can’t stop smiling like a nutter when he’s around his Malfoy. It appears that the Malfoy men have been blessed with… oh, God... _considerable_ size, and the very thought of playing with whatever monster is making those leather trousers tent so impressively makes my mouth water. I rub my cheek against the hot bulge, and when he barely holds back a yelp, I run my tongue along the edge of his trousers, licking slowly from one hip to another, intent on giving him an idea... or twenty… of what to expect.

“Such a tease…” he half-gasps, half-hisses, and the anticipation in his voice is the hottest, sexiest thing ever.

“Just a little bit more,” I pant, already mouthing the bulge of the heavy shaft trapped by the leather, because I love getting familiar with the shape of him and I can’t fucking keep away.

I can’t get enough of watching how crazy it drives him, how he moans deeply, fists the sheets and how his narrow hips fly off the surface, desperate for contact. Too damn bad I’m at the edge of blowing my load myself and I can’t hold on much longer. Some things are going to have to wait for later. I have no plans of letting him go.

Right now, my cock is so painfully hard I could hammer nails through the walls with it, so I finally give into my own burning desire and his whispered pleas, and undo the laces on his trousers. And then I literally have to squeeze my crazed dick at the base, or I would have come at the sight of him.

He doesn’t have any underwear on – of course not, why would he, it’s only bloody _winter_ and I don’t recall having him any t-shirt on yesterday either?! – but the royal cock that finally springs out of the confines of his leather trousers is… oh, God yessss! It renders me speechless. It’s every fucking wish-fulfilment I ever had. Oh, you think I’m a sucker for long blond hair? Now, let me tell you about my cock obsession. Perhaps it’s all a result of never being able properly enjoy being with a man, of always being reduced to hasty, drunken encounters in semi-darkness that never allowed me to appreciate anyone; or their, er, tool. But let me tell you: I’ve got a _serious_ fixation on that thing. A big, thick, pulsing rod is the main star in my every wanking fantasy. And his… oh, Merlin, _yesss_! His is as good as they get. Scorpius Malfoy’s got a cock of a pagan God.

I kneel between his legs like in proper worship, dizzy with arousal and barely able to breathe, and I pull him closer to have that gorgeous, purple shaft, thick and crowned with pearly liquid all to myself. There is something to be said about a blond deity stretched on the background of a white fur coat, marble skin flushed pink, and those magical, silver eyes focused on me with such feverish intensity as if there was no one but us left in this world. In this moment I know that I’m going to wank to this image of him the rest of my days. The decadent blond devil in my bed simply exudes sex and the worst sort of animal attraction I’m utterly powerless to resist.

The sound he makes when I close my fingers around his shaft makes my own swollen cock press painfully against the sheets, and I can’t hold back my own needy whimper. I let the crown of his cock slide between my lips, and I kiss it lovingly, sucking so gently, it makes him arch backwards and release a breathless hiss.

“Oh, fuck you, Ted… _Godyesthis…_ ”

And after that I’m just… possessed. I take him in my mouth slowly, inch by inch, sliding forever lower down the gorgeous cock. My tongue revels at the exotic taste of him, and I’m inhaling the hot scent of his arousal like a madman. God, he smells of pure sin and unfiltered desire and I’m all but ready to burn for him.

I just _love_ to watch how he rides my mouth, not holding back a second, just pistoning his narrow, alluring hips in a feverish pace, pushing that heavy, swollen beast of a cock down my mouth and I’m whimpering around it, because he’s a fucking vision and I’m ready to come at the mere sight of him. Finally, the thick head of his shaft presses at the back of my throat, and I try to release my throat, try to get some air, try not to come at the pressure that fills me with sweet anticipation. Any second now… He’s close; I can tell by his laboured breathing and by the unbroken strings of profanities that set my blood on fire because I love a man with filthy mouth. And I’m ready to give it all to see bliss spread across his face.

But suddenly his fingers pull on my hair, demanding my attention, and I meet his lust-addled eyes.

“Strip,” he breathes. “I need to see you, Ted. I can hold back… I can hold back just a little bit longer… but I need to see you.”

There probably wasn’t another man in the history of wizardkind that ever stripped with such blinding speed, born out of pure, basest need and most desperate arousal. It would have probably been faster if I remembered I was a wizard, but the brainless fool that I was, I didn’t even think of my wand until it fell out of the pocket of my discarded jeans. Let’s just say I had, er, another piece of wood I was preoccupied with.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs when I finally return to the holy place between his legs, and I confess myself feeling seven kinds of smug at the awe-stricken expression on his face.

“How are you so fit?” he wants to know, and then his face lights up in one of those naughty, savagely beautiful smiles that take my breath away, and he presses a long finger straight onto my lips like a little brat he is. “Don’t tell me… Quidditch? You play a lot of it.”

“Yes!” I gasp, and before I can help myself, my tongue wraps around the provoking finger, nibbling on it and sucking on it like I need it to live, because I’m simply desperate for a taste of him. The wanton little whimper of surrender I’m rewarded with nearly pushes me over the edge.

“Can we pick up the part where I fuck your mouth later?” he asks, blinking innocently. “I’ve got a very… specific fantasy regarding that. But right now, I just want to feel you, Ted,” he whispers before he delivers a deep, bone-melting kiss to my mouth. “I want to feel you in my hand, I want to look at your face when you come. I’ll touch yours if you’ll touch mine,” the blond devil whispers sweetly, and – yes, oh, yesssss! Please do… I’m game!

I whimper helplessly when those elegant, long fingers wrap around my pulsing shaft once again, and it feels as if I could burn to a sweet death inside the tight, wonderful cage of his fist. He moans lasciviously when I return the favour and the very sight of him, of that thick cock leaking all over my fingers, makes me utter a breathless curse: “Oh, fuck you, Scorpius Malfoy, where were you my whole life?!”

“Waiting,” he pants breathlessly, when our hands begin moving in a synchronised, feverish rhythm, because we both know we’re too close for anything more elaborate. “Waiting for you, Ted. No one else would do…”

I’m already yelping, and I can’t believe that something I’ve been doing for years with my own hand feels so bloody different, so… incredibly… _ohGodplease…_ better… with those warm, demanding fingers milking my weeping cock for all I’ve got with frantic speed. My senses seem to have expanded, almost as if I was experiencing different dimensions of the world around me, and in this different reality I finally notice the single, heavy platinum ring on his middle finger. It bears the insignia of the house of Black, and the realisation that I have one exactly like that, that we’re truly connected in everything, even in that one, perfect detail, makes my blood surge violently to the tip of my cock, to the point of my sight blurring.

Perhaps this is it… this is where the bone-deep need to connect comes from… we share passion and blood of the house of Black, and our magic seems to have found a way to unite us in a most incredible, divine way possible. I look into those wild, silver eyes, and I see the reflection of my own awareness that we were meant to be. The knowledge that I’ve found the one strikes me in the form of a blinding, mad pleasure that feels like a golden whip across my body.

“Won’t... last...” I manage, but he’s just as far gone as I am.

He only nods before his hand reaches for mine and our swollen, leaking cocks are finally pressed tightly against each other into a single, hot cage of our joint hands. All my bones melt in a mad dance of savage need and shy, unspeakable love for the man who put me in this place.

“Please, come…” he begs wantonly, looking every bit like sin personified, like the one thing I could not live without, like a perfect memory in the making, built to last.

“Want to see you come… Ted… please...”

That breathless, pleading voice is all it takes. A single simmering spark of ungodly pleasure shoots from the very pit of my rock-hard balls all the way down my spine as I’m watching him yelp, arch his back and shoot his load, and I’m already screaming my release, coming all over him and so hard it feels as if I hurt something. The world literally goes white-hot for a long, indescribable moment of pure bliss, and I can literally feel my toes curling in savage pleasure. God, this is… this was… oh, God. Fucking God.

I just collapse onto him, boneless, breathless; not yet in touch with reality. I’m simply destroyed and so very sated that I’m completely free of any desire to ever move again, to ever talk, see or feel anything other than that bone-deep pleasure I’ve just experienced. And lying on top of Scorpius Malfoy is something I could get used to… and never get enough of. His breathing is still erratic, shallow and exhausted, as if he just completed a feat that seemed a little bit beyond him. But his silken skin is hot to the touch, and the way he adjusts under me to make me more comfortable just melts my heart. His hands slip around my back to hold me close, and though he still hasn’t said a word, I can feel his lips touch my neck in a silent _“Thank you”_ , and I smile blissfully, lazily into the cosy semi-darkness of the humble hotel room.

This tiny little place, hardly better than a glorified broom closet, is our palace tonight; a shelter to our magical bond. There isn’t enough Galleons in the world to make me want to exchange it for anything more grand. I am happy here, the way I was never happy in my entire life, and it’s like our _bond_ , our… love? – Merlin, could it be? – transformed it into a place of magic that will always hold a special spot in my heart.

The notorious one-person bed that gave me so much anxiety is my new favourite haven, and I don’t think I ever want to leave. It smells of us; it smells of his warm skin and my sweat, of the irresistible pull between us, and of whatever elixir is in his hair. The remnants of our unstoppable hunger for each other still clings to the no-longer-spotless sheets, and the memory of such mindless surrender to our needs seems to still linger on, making me boneless and stupidly happy.

Funny how those very needs I’ve always pushed to the very bottom of my awareness ended up making me feel so free; so exhilarated. I’ve always assumed they were wrong, depraved, something to be ashamed of, unlike the needs of other people… But here, in the warm, welcoming embrace of my gorgeous blond God, they came to life with unimaginable force… and they never felt more right. My whole being seemed to be calling for a companion, for someone to belong to for as far back as I could remember – and finally, Scorpius Malfoy answered. It might be love after all. Oh, sweet Merlin, please...

His bony fingers are threading through my hair lightly, and I _love_ the feeling. No one’s ever been so gentle with me before. There was never enough time, or the right time… not to mention the right person. I grunt grudgingly, when they stop and slowly slip out of my hair, but it only takes a moment to look at him and discover that he dozed off, Merlin, this boy… I swear he looks like a cuddly Kneazle in his sleep. The sight of him fills my heart with breath-taking warmth, and it scares me how very desperate I am to keep him.

It’s not just that everything about him turns me on… but it’s that as well. I want to show him everything. I want to take him apart, make him come with my mouth, worship that beautiful round bum I haven’t even touched properly, sink into the pits of that delicious arse until he’s so full of my cock he’ll never feel complete without it again. But most of all I want to lay down beside him when we’ve fucked each other boneless and stupid, and I want to watch him sleep. It’s my favourite thing ever. Watching Scorpius cuddle up against me, his relaxed, stunning face pressed against my chest, and his nose scrunching up in a most adorable Malfoyian way is my favourite thing ever.

_JesusMerlin…_ I think... I think I love him. Could I, really? It certainly feels like it… but how do I find out? That’s just… it’s bloody scary. Gods, I hope I don’t fuck this up.

 

~

 

I just woke up and he isn’t here. Ted isn’t here. Goddammit!

After what felt like the night in heaven, this just feels… wrong… and Merlin, it’s heart-wrenching! Heart-wrenching and plain wrong. Did I screw up last night? But it felt so perfect! Maybe I was too bossy… or too inexperienced. Fuck.

I knew I should have made better use of the opportunities at my hand’s reach when I was roaming around the Muggle world with Hugo. It was a perfect chance to get _some_ experience.

But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

Hugo took me to a few clubs when I was first introduced into the family. Nothing too sleazy, we just went dancing – and I happen to love dancing. There’s just something about letting the music take over, isn’t there? He even took me to a karaoke bar once – you know, a place where you have to sing to the background music? That’s how he found out I can sing… and that I love the type of music they were doing. It was all rather innocent at first. We were drinking – perfectly normal for two guys past the legal age – we were dancing, singing, and just having lots of fun. It was the first time in my life I had fun.

But then there were girls… and then guys… who were interested. In me… in more. And I just… wasn’t. I never was. Not in girls and not in boys. Just Ted. I barely ever saw him, yet he made my heart go wild. Perhaps it’s because I’m a bloody Malfoy: we get obsessively stuck up on things… well, people we want. I guess somewhere in my heart of hearts I always knew that it was going to be Ted – or no one.

But it wasn’t until this one guy on the dancefloor tried to kiss me, and I really didn’t like it, that I figured out that I didn’t want more… that I’d probably never want more with anyone, and least of all with one of the anonymous one-night stands. Hugo ended up hexing the pushy idiot in the arse. He Apparated us home, and held me when I cried a bloody river... and when I blurted out everything about Ted, and how he fascinated me. I was drunk, head over heels with a man who barely knew I existed, and it seemed that my life was just stuck out there somewhere, in the cold, outside of the world where happiness and love happened.

In my semi-drunken haze, I sniffled into Hugo’s chest if it was too much to ask of the universe to at least give me a chance, a chance to be noticed or something – but then he tilted my head back gently, enough to look me in the eye, and told me something that made a new man out of me. He said I wasn’t asking for enough.

“Is being noticed really all you want?” he asked me, and I still remember how his eyes sparkled. “If someone rang at your door and asked you for a few Knuts, would you give him a fist of Galleons? How the hell is the anyone supposed to know what you’re asking for when you don’t go out there and show it?! You can’t sit at home wishing upon a star, Scorpius. Even less so, when there’s a good chance it could be yours to get.”

Believe it or not, it didn’t really dawn on me until that moment that I should be the one making the move. God, have I been stupid or what?! Ted barely knew I existed, let alone how desperately smitten I was with him – how was he supposed to fall into my arms, indeed?!

“I take it you’re ready to do something about it, then?” Hugo asked, because I was practically dead weight in his arms, and of course he could feel every emotion running through me.

“Yeah… I suppose… I just don’t know where to start,” I mumbled, more than a tiny bit embarrassed that I was so lost and useless in planning my own future. I looked at him, pleadingly, hopefully, because if anyone could show me the way to Ted’s heart, it was Hugh. He was always pulling off impossible things, just for the heck of it, just because it was a challenge.

“Oh, we’re not going to worry about that tonight.” He smiled beatifically, and I should have known there and then that I was walking straight into one of his plans. “Tonight… you’re going to sing for me. You have a bloody brilliant voice, best I’ve ever heard… so would you humour me and sing me something you really like? Something that will set you right, and make those tears dry on your face.” He smiled kindly.

“What… you mean, like one of The Weasaster songs?” I sniffled, already feeling inexplicably better. “They’re my favourite…”

“ _Just_ like one of The Weasaster songs.” He smiled that pretty Kneazle smile, cheeky, sweet and clever at the same time. “Pick your favourite. Or something you feel like. Whatever. It’s not like I care.”

So, I did. My scared yet hopeful heart made a call, I didn’t even have to choose. It was a song called _“You and I”_ and they said on the wireless that it was the only song that wasn’t written by the band’s guitar player but by a singer instead. I loved that song. I’ve been humming it to myself rather obsessively ever since I first heard it over the wireless. So, I sang it note for note, with streaks of tears still drying on my cheeks, and my head still resting on Hugo’s chest. I confess that for a moment there it made me wonder what kind of feelings inspired Hugh, the coolest, most level-minded person I knew, to write such a tender song – but mostly, I was just happy to think of Ted.

 

_“I lose control because of you babe_

_I lose control when you look at me like this…”_

 

I repeated the lovely, sweet words like mantra, and when I came to the very last tone, Hugo tilted my head back again, looked me in the eye, and said kindly, but perfectly seriously: “Thank you. That was perfect. And this, darling, is how you win Ted.”

I thought he was joking at the time; perhaps he was just being kind or maybe even that he was a little mad, like Father had warned me the Weasleys could be. But – what do you know?! – look at me now. I’ve spent a night with Ted. _I’ve spent an actual whole night with Ted._

And now what? Oh, I’ve won him all right, at least for that one night I did – but do I get to keep him? I _so_ didn’t want to be a one-night stand.

“G’morning, Princess.”

Bloody Weasleys!! Father was right, they’ll be the death of us. Hugo snuck up on me with all the stealth he’s capable of, and he’s goofily smiling at the practically naked me. The way I squee and try to cover up in haste like a blushing virgin makes him chuckle and lift one of his eyebrows as if he can’t believe I’m actually trying to appear prude in front of him.

“No worries, mate. Your chastity – however little there is left – is in no danger whatsoever from me.” He smirks. “I saw quite enough arse last night to last me through the day.”

That certainly spikes my interest.

“So, you were with…?”

“Yup,” he cuts me short, but the blissful smile on his face says more than he’s willing to. “You could say we’ve hooked up. It was as unforgettable as always, thanks for asking. I reckon you did, too."

I blush – yes, yes, dammit, again! – and try to mumble something like _“None of your business”_ but suddenly the awareness that Ted is no longer by my side rushes in, so I drop all pretence, just look straight at Hugo, and blurt out my misery: “It was bloody brilliant, Hugh. Everything I could hope for, and more, so much more! Ted called me gorgeous, you know, and… we… we did things… oh, God… but he isn’t here now, is he? I hoped to wake up with him… but he _isn’t fucking here_!”

I actually smack my fists against the bed in frustration, and then look at Hugo again. “Why are these things so hard? Love… and such… Is it hard for everyone or is it just me? Am I cursed? Why isn’t he here? You just don’t leave a person when you did… things with them, do you?! It’s… well, it’s _rude_!”

Fuck. Great. I’m all but sobbing again. And then Hugo’s arms close around me and I just give up and start sobbing for real.

“Why doesn’t he want me?!” I choke out. “Why doesn’t Ted want me, Hugh?”

“Don’t be an idiot, silly,” Hugo replies gently, his long fingers threading through my hair soothingly. “It’s quite enough that he’s being an idiot… a panicking one, from what I could tell this morning. Love just makes idiots of us all, I guess...”

He pauses, looking thoughtful, and then speaks unexpectedly: “You know, I cried like a widow when I thought I could never have the person I fell in love with. Broke down like a fucking wuss in front of Dad. I swear I scared the living shit out of him. He couldn’t ever remember seeing me cry before. But he sat me down and told me that I could have anything I wanted if I put my mind and my heart to it… anyone I wanted. _Especially_ the person I wanted. That no one person, worthy of my heart, would say no to the love like mine…”

He stops for a moment like he’s thinking, and then he smiles a beautiful dreamy smile. “Dad’s such a champ sometimes. Everyone thinks him a bit simple, but he’s got a knack for cutting through the rot and getting straight to the gist. The way he said those words… you know, it sounded just like he knew something I didn’t. He even wiggled his eyebrows, if you can believe it. Made me laugh in the middle of a proper meltdown. But it was enough. It gave me hope, and it gave me determination to go through with… er, a rather mad plan. But most of all, Dad’s words made me realise I was happy just to have found love, you know?”

He looks at me with those clever eyes and says quietly: “People often underestimate what it means to be able to open your heart to something so precious – especially when you think it’s not requited, and it brings you nothing but yearning and pain. It was nearly two years ago, but I remember it absolutely _sucked_ when I thought I wasn’t on the receiving end of love. But you see, it turns out that I was only being stupid.” He suddenly grins so happily I’m nearly knocked backwards by the radiance of his smile.

“I somehow managed to miss all the signs… misread every last one of them, being a proverbial lovestruck idiot and all. Merlin, those days…”

He smiles again, and that invincible lustre is back in his eyes, and I know that someone in this town right now considers themselves the luckiest bastard alive to have this man to himself. Lucky bastard indeed. They don’t come better than Hugo Weasley.

“Anyway, enough about me already,” Hugh says quickly, and takes my icy hands into his big, warm palms.

“Ted’s just scared, Scorp,” he tells me next and looks me straight in the eye. “He isn’t going anywhere. He must feel like he’s on the brink of having everything he ever wanted – and he’s afraid to hope. You know, with the way you knocked him off his feet, no wonder his head is spinning a little.” He smiles and ruffles my hair, making me blush like a proverbial rose, feeling my face all but melting in a stupid, uncontainable grin.

“But mark my words: Lupin will come to his senses before the night is over,” Hugo says with such conviction in his voice I just want to hug him for it. “The poor arse won’t know what hit him when you go up there on that stage looking like a God and singing just for him. He’ll be all over you like the plague by the end of the day, and that’s as good as a promise!”

This time I do hug him. Bloody hell, Hugh and his pep talks, they’re just awesome!

“Hey, save some for that confused butthead you picked.” He laughs, and ruffles my hair. “You see, I know Ted: he simply craves closeness. Even as a child I remember him always begging his Gran for an extra few minutes at the Burrow when she came to fetch him, and he always looked like a kicked puppy when he had to go. He’s trying really hard to belong and to connect, and now, when there’s a real hope of that… I think he’s still trying to figure out how the hell you’ve pushed through all of his defences with such ease, Scorp. I reckon he must be petrified. All those strong-as-fuck, scary feelings overwhelming him – seriously, I could feel them from three feet away… My best guess is that he’s dead frightened he’s going to fuck this up because he wants it too much. He wants _you_ too much.”

Yeah, you guessed it: more mad blushing on my part.

“I hope you’re right,” I mumble. “Or I might just ambush him... jump him on the stage.”

And that makes Hugo tilt his head back and roar with laughter.

“That’s the spirit, pumpkin,” he says with a big smile on that pretty, freckled face. “Now, get that pretty little arse out of the bed quickly, and I’ll meet you in the lobby. We’ve got things to do, you and I, before I have to jet once again… but I’ll be back,” he says quickly, upon seeing a flash of anxiety cross my face. “I promise, I’ll sneak into the concert if I have to steal Harry’s invisibility cloak, and I’m going to be watching every move you make. If you hear someone howl like a harpy, that’s me. I’m your number one fan… actually, make that number two. I know a certain bewitched young man who’ll happily follow your every move on the stage,” he says smugly and I’m kind of praying to all the Gods I can think of that he’s right.

It’s damn hard to get out of that bed, I’ll have you know. I might have a few emotional attachment issues when I look at the crumpled sheets and think of how happy I was between them. But in the end, a sudden rush of panic and excitement almost catapults me into the tiny bathroom. And, as I’m showering, I’m trying very hard not to think that I’m washing the last traces of Ted and our magical night off my skin. I can’t afford to be depressed on top of it all. I’ve got a job to do, and if I do it right… who knows. I wasn’t like Ted. Hope didn’t scare me.

 

~

 

All right, so I panicked! I snuck out of that tiny wonderful bed, our bed, like the coward I am, and I tried very hard not to look back at the lovely creature currently dwelling in it, sighing something in his sleep. I failed rather spectacularly, of course. I had to cast that one last look at him and God knows, I’ve damned myself. With a peaceful, happy expression on that beautiful face, and that long, blond, angelic hair spilling all around him like silver moonlight, Scorpius Malfoy looked like he just stepped out of my dream and landed in my bed. Merlin, what was I doing?!

He looked so happy – and I knew I made him so. So, what the hell was I doing by the door, about to leave him behind?! He made my heart pound faster and my head turned into a mess around him, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t think. And I was desperate to get a grip on myself. Being so crazy, irrationally happy and smitten scared me to the bone. I needed to get back some control, I needed to sit down in some dark corner, alone, and think this through properly. I needed to see if there was any real hope that I wasn’t going to muck this up and we could make this work. And I couldn’t do it around him. All my solid and reasonable thoughts just flew out of the window when he cuddled up against me and my heart melted into goo. Merlin’s knickers, the power that boy held over me was plain scary!

So, I snuck away like a thief at the first signs of dawn, and here I am, three hours later, parked in the darkest corner of the hotel bar, hopefully well-concealed from the buzz of the hotel guests rushing about their busy morning. I saw Hugo come across the lobby about half an hour ago but my concealment charm held, and though he stopped near me, he just frowned and walked right past me. Good. I really didn’t need to get shredded to pieces by an overly-protective ginger Nagini-reincarnate.

I’m still hiding, inhaling hot, bitter coffee straight through to my brain, trying to argue with myself to calm the fuck down… that the world didn’t come to an end if I slept… _spent the entire night_ with the world’s most perfect man… who seemed just right for me… who seemed to genuinely want me… who wasn’t interested in hiding it… who could spin me like a marionette with nothing but a sweet, sexy smile and a flip of long blond hair. Man, I was so toast.

“Ted Lupin, you complete idiot!”

The spoon thumps me on the head without a warning, and for a moment there I see a white spot in front of my eyes. But only when I see the rest of the cups, saucers and cutlery on my table fly up in the air and hover above me, looking utterly menacing, I realise I’ve encountered a seriously pissed off Hugo. Oh, man, I’m in some deepshit trouble. Right. What a way to start the most important day of your life!

“Look…” I start, but his eyes are nothing but blue lightning, and he’s completely not interested in my explanation.

“I told you not to hurt him again!” he all but spits through his teeth.

He’s so fucking scary and imposing, I’m seriously considering a quick manoeuvre of ducking under the table to save my sorry, frightened arse. My brain helpfully – NOT! – reminds me that this is the grandson of Molly, the Death Eater annihilator, and that the entire brood is just bloody violent!

“How dare you?! He’s in there crying over you, _again_ , you colossal fool!!”

All right, I do feel _a little bit_ like a fool right now… Hugo has a way of putting things, you see… A _very_ intimidating way.

“The only reason I don’t rip you limb from limb, Lupin, is because you apparently found some guts and an ounce of brain last night and showed Scorp the time of his life!”

If you think Hugo howled these words, you’d be wrong. He hissed them in a low voice so menacing it makes me want to drag my own gravestone to the set and just lie underneath it, it’ll be over quicker. He’s going to off me here, in the dark corner, and no one will even find my remains. I’d try crying for help… but honestly, I had it coming.

“He loves you, Ted, he genuinely loves you, and by the merciful God, if I thought you were only toying with him, I’d kick you so far out into the snow you’d freeze on your way out!”

I know… look, I know all this, and when I see the way he looks at me – with angry, bitter disappointment – I’m genuinely, properly ashamed of myself. I fucked this up before I even had a chance to try myself at this Godforsaken thing called love.

“But…”

God, yes! Luckily there _is_ a “but” in there somewhere, and as the saying goes, everything that comes before it doesn’t matter!

“I happen to think you’re just a dead-frightened, love-stricken fool who’s found the one, and now doesn’t know which way is up and what to do not to fuck this up,” Hugo says more calmly, and this statement is so bloody accurate that I’m stunned speechless. I’m starting to suspect this Weasley wonder has found a way to do undetectable Legilimency!

“It’s normal to be scared, I suppose,” he says quietly. “I get it: you were just outed – and not so subtly, thanks to Jamie. Then there’s suddenly this young man in your life whom you only know by his family reputation, and who has _no business_ being the right one, yet you can’t deny he takes your breath away and you can’t just let go and pretend it’s nothing… So, yeah – I _do_ get it. This _is_ a scary new domain for you. So, as much as I want to hex you all the way into the Middle Ages, I guess that’s reason enough for me to let this one slide... but just this once,” he says pointedly, and the warning in his voice is impossible to miss.

“But you need to make up your mind soon, Lupin,” he tells me seriously, and his words sound ominous without him trying much. “Or I’ll make sure you no longer have a choice. You need to hug that boy tight, and never let go, Ted. Open your Goddamn hungry heart to him, I know you crave it, and embrace everything he has to offer. Trust me, it’s more than you deserve, more than anyone deserves. _Or_ – get the hell out of his way. Your call. But don’t send him any more mixed signals, and I don’t want you anywhere near him if that’s going to be your choice. Are we clear?”

I nod with a knot in my mouth. It’s a fair choice, and I know it. I need to make up my mind. I can’t drag this on for much longer.

 

~

 

God, I can’t do it… I can’t! How can I?! This whole thing is crazy! All those people out there, chanting the band’s name! I’m going to be such a failure. What was I thinking, signing up for this?! This whole day has been crazy!

Once I made it out of my room in the morning, Hugo met me in the hotel lobby, and silently pushed a croissant in my hand.

“Eat,” he said. “We’re late as it is.”

“Late for what?” I wanted to know, my stomach thanking me for the croissant, and loudly begging for more. Yes, Malfoys do occasionally get hungry and I had a, er, wonderfully athletic night behind me and no food since the day before.

“Well, the sound-check at the venue, of course!” He smiled. “We needed to be there half an hour ago.”

Shit. Right. My first proper day on the job and I was running late already.

“Let’s go then,” I somehow mumbled with my mouth full, but honestly, I didn’t want to be taken _literally_! Ever tried eating a croissant while unexpectedly being side-Apparated? Well, don’t. Just… don’t. I was lucky to find all my teeth still in place, but the poor ol’ croissant was nowhere to be found.

“Here we are,” Hugh said happily, letting go of my hand. “Big, isn’t it? Have a look around and I’ll send someone over to show you where everything is and what not to touch.”

Big?! _Big?!_ It was bloody enormous! The mere size of the stage took my breath away. It ran the width of the largest, most spacious Quidditch pitch I ever saw, and it was surrounded from all sides by a seemingly sky-high gallery of seats, the top of which was disappearing into a morning mist. _JesusMerlinChrist._

For a second there I just stood there like a log, with my knees still soft from Apparition, gawping like a fish out of the water. I’ve never seen so much empty space. Then I had a bright-not-so-bright idea to imagine the vast emptiness before me filled to the brim with crowds of people, and in the words of the legendary Hagrid: _I shouldn’t have done that._ I tried to close my eyes quickly to blink the petrifying thought away and find some focus – and that was when I heard his voice.

“I reckon we’d better not look out there much… not just yet. It will fill up soon enough… and I guess then it’ll _really_ be scary.”

I turned around with the speed of light, and there was Ted, smiling at me sheepishly. And I… _ohbloodyhell_ , I just melted at the sound of his warm voice, all right?! I forgave him everything right there and then. I know it’s not a very Malfoyian trait to let go of a grudge, but seriously, how could I not? The winter sun tinted his dark hair with red-gold hues, and his eyes were sparking with that invincible amber shine again… and he approached me! He didn’t hide and pretend nothing happened; he came to me, so… so that was good enough, right?

He looked away from me as if he was embarrassed, and spoke quickly: “You know you’re going to have run the length of this thing a hundred times during a gig, hm? We’ve all got our instruments to play, we can stay put if we want to but you – you have no excuse.”

I don’t know what devil possessed me, but...

“Oh, I’m not worried. I know if I collapse I’ve got you to carry me around.”

Yes, I, Scorpius the Shy, actually blurted that out. I even stunned myself into silence with my cheek, but you should have seen his face! He looked positively flabbergasted for a moment. But then his eyes lit up and his shoulders started shaking in quiet laughter while he shook his head in disbelief.

“Merlin, you… You’re just…”

“A shameless flirt? Oh, I know, some guy I really liked – but, sadly, never woke up with – told me so.”

His laughter was over as quickly as it had begun, and his hair turned deep violet – a clear sign how emotional he had become. When he spoke hastily, he sounded nervous and apologetic.

“Scorp… look… you’ve got to know…”

“Hey, you two, could you, like, continue drooling all over each other in your own time?” James Potter howled at us from behind his drums, startling us both silly. “We’ve got a gig to do in… oh, about six hours, and I had to leave a warm bed filled with four gorgeous birds to watch you two play catch-me-if-you-can and look at each other longingly. We’re supposed to get ready for a concert, not a drama!”

Just for the record: if James Potter drops dead, that was me. No matter what his death certificate says, it was my work, I’m behind it. That man is the most irritating, infuriating… _argh_! He might have cost me my relationship in that moment, and he definitely put the future of my potentially fantastic sex life in danger! He needed to fall off the stage and…

“Jesus, Jamie, you… ruthless Muggle tank,” Al barked. “Shut the fuck up or Skeeter will have get her Malfoy-Potter murder she’s been waiting to write about for three decades! You can’t just go and expose a budding relationship like that!”

It turns out Father was right: Potters are the fucking _worst_.

My flaming cheeks could set the frosty winter air afire, and Ted looked about ready to jump off the stage. But then he said something that made my heart stop in mid-beat.

“Oh, shut your crazy Potter gobs, the pair of you,” he growled. “Our budding relationship is none of your business.”

My knees nearly melted right there and then. _Our relationship…_ Ted had called it our relationship!

“I seriously _can’t_ believe this! I leave you alone for a total of six, no, seven minutes, and you’re already down to insults?!”

Hugo was standing there, looking incredulous, and suddenly we were all very busy shifting from foot to foot nervously like a gang of guilty children. Hugo has some serious talent for chastising. Since I met his Grandmother Molly, I’m no longer surprised; it’s definitely inherited.

“I’m surprised you’re not throwing mud-pies at each other like a bunch of pre-Hogwarts kids!” he howled enthusiastically at the Potters, and they had the good grace to look ashamed. “Seriously, the level of maturity is off the charts here… for a pack of _garden gnomes_! Aren’t you dorks supposed to be playing?! You think tens of thousands of fans from all over Europe came to watch you brawl?!”

“All right, all right, don’t go all Grandma Molly on us, Merlin’s golden balls…” Al muttered, summoning his guitar from the backstage so fast it nearly knocked James off the stage. “See, we’re working here already. _Working_. You can now take your Granger-ness elsewhere…”

“See that you do!” the redheaded menace barked instead of a goodbye. “You know I’ll know if you don’t! Scorp –  be good. Make sure those gits give it their best.”

He pulled me into one last, warm hug – _“Go get them, blondie!”_ – and I confess I hated to see him go.

“Later, gang,” he said, and turned towards us one last time. “Make me proud, yeah?”

And I think it was that quiet spark of regret in his eyes that made everyone work their butts off. I swear that for the next hour or so, no one dared to look left or right from what we were doing.

Given how different everything was from a secluded basement where we had practiced, the whole sound-check thingy went fairly well… as soon as we stopped tripping over cables and having a few near misses of tumbling off the stage. Yes, we were using the Muggle technology, imagine that! For someone like me, a pure-blood whose only contact with the world of Muggles so far were Muggle Studies at Hogwarts and a ride in the limo, everything I touched was exciting enough to make me squeal! It took me a while to get the hang of moving across the vast space of such a big stage, but I discovered that I liked my new freedom. It gave me a chance to try a few more creative moves, and running back and forth kept me warm.

But the best part was how close on my heels Ted chose to stay. He always seemed to be there when I swirled around, and every time I stopped for a moment, he drifted towards me as if I was somehow his magnet. It made me flush from head to toe, and made me all fuzzy on the inside. And if I looked at him, he just smiled at me sheepishly, shyly, but didn’t move away. I’d be willing to freeze my arse up there for a whole day for a smile like this. I still couldn’t quite work my head around the way how the word “relationship” just slipped out of his mouth. Had he really meant it?

“Look, guys, if I play another note, my fingers are going to fall off and roll away knuckle by knuckle like frozen marbles.” Al approached us after a couple of hours of practice, teeth chattering. “I don’t care if Hugo hexes me in the arse: the team taking care of heating charms is clearly lazy or not here yet, I’m starving, I’m freezing and I need a loo break.”

“I second that!” James chipped in from behind his drum-kit. “I had to skip breakfast because of that Weasley slave-driver. I swear the ginger bastard puts Aunt Hermione to shame! But right now I need a piss so badly, I’m seeing yellow. I’m willing to duel him for a break.”

“Count me in,” Ted agreed quickly. “I’m frozen stiff and I reckon I could eat a well-done troll.”

And if I was a momentarily a little bit disappointed over the fact that he was so willing to walk away from me once again, the sound of my disappointment instantly drowned in the thundering growling of my stomach. Honestly, it was embarrassing. It appears that being a love-struck fool doesn’t actually _stop_ one from being famished, er, no. Who knew?

I was so used to my solitary ways that it came as a genuine surprise when Ted turned towards me and asked quietly: “So, uhm… Want to grab something to eat?”

“Sure thing,” I said, my heart skipping a beat, but my joy and excitement only lasted a blink.

“Oh, brilliant, Lupin’s buying us all lunch!” James howled cheerfully, and just like that, the Potter demon ruined _everything_ – yet again. One of these days, Potter. Soon.

“Oh, might as well, you bottomless creature with hollow Weasley legs.” Ted sighed, clearly resigned to his fate. “It’s a good thing I’ve got enough inheritance not to let the Potters starve.”

But then he gave me a small, helpless shrug and my heart soared again because he was clearly as disappointed at the way things turned out as I was, and I put all my hopes into that small gesture. I was just that pathetic; I have no excuse.

The lunch break turned out to be a two-hour affair and it didn’t turn out as badly as I feared. Having been raised with literally no friends at all didn’t exactly give a proper boost to the development of my social skills, but it turned out that having a pair of bickering Potter brothers at the table was fairly entertaining and it barely required me to open my mouth. Which was just as well. I didn’t really feel like a chit-chat. My eyes kept wandering towards Ted and I found myself wondering over and over again if he really wanted to talk to me in private or that lunch invitation was just made out of politeness. Our eyes met a few times, and I had a feeling that he was trying to tell me something, but then he looked away just as quickly, and it left me with a tingling craving of expectation of another stolen glance.

“Merlin, I’m stuffed. If I don’t have a kip, I’ll doze off behind my guitar up there.” Al finally stretched his wiry limbs and got up. “They better have a couch for me to stretch on for a couple of hours. I need to catch a bit of rest. Last night was…”

His eyes wandered towards his brother, and a small, cheeky, but shockingly affectionate smile blossomed in the corner of his mouth before he finished: “...all sorts of wild.”

Seriously, I couldn’t figure those two out. Half of the time they acted as if they wanted to tear each other’s head off, but they literally followed each other around like a pair of shadows, and they seem to be virtually inseparable. Bloody confusing sibling dynamics. Being an only child, I had no hope of getting to the bottom of this.

Right now, James just flashed Al a blissful grin and silently offered him his fist for a friendly fist-bump.

“I always knew your stamina sucked,” he commented with a goofy grin. “Later, bro. I’m just gonna sit around here with _my best mate Ted_ for a while longer, have a drink, and discuss… uhm… things.”

Right, so… I… Fucking Potter.

It was clear that I wasn’t invited and my last hope of talking things over with Ted before the concert died quietly. Perhaps later would already be too late. _Fucking James Potter._

“Come,” Al said quickly and as he motioned me to go, I dare say there was a bit of pity in his eyes. “I bet you didn’t know you get your very own dressing room. It usually has something to nap on for a couple of hours. I’ll take you there.”

“Sure thing… thank you,” I said as politely as I could after my upbringing to always be courteous kicked in, but I was well aware there was no disguising how dejected I felt.

“Scorpius… later?” Ted called behind me, sounding irritated and anxious.

But I just nodded without turning back, no longer holding any hope that we could actually talk things through. At best, whatever went on between us would remain unresolved for some time to come. In worst case scenario… dammit. Fucking James Potter. Or so I thought.

“So… now that you have a boyfriend – how’s that working out for you?”

_That…_ was James Potter, casually dropping a million-Galleon question to Ted. It literally stopped me in my tracks – but I never got to hear Ted’s answer. Al unrelentingly pulled me behind the corner, and stopped to look me in the eye.

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “This needs to come from Ted, looking you in the eye, telling you how he feels, truthfully. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t go for scraps. Don’t sell yourself short. Don’t let anyone ever take you for granted just because you love them.”

That… wow. I confess that kind of took my breath away. Was I that transparent? Could anyone tell how crazy I was about Ted? Everyone – but Ted?

“I know it’s hard to believe, but Jamie is only trying to help,” Al told me in a softer voice. “I know my brother, he’s a bit of an idiot, but he would never purposefully hurt anyone, least of all Ted; he loves that bloke to bits. He also knows Ted to the back of his head and if he’s meddling, it’s because he knows that Ted is working through something in his head and he’s just trying to stir him in the right direction.”

Was he really? Could James Potter be really working in my favour? What for?

“Trust me,” Al said simply. “If James thinks you’re the one for Ted – which he might – and Ted just needs a little nudge to fall into your arms, James is going to give him such a push he’ll end up on the other side of you. My brother seriously wants to see Ted happy; it’s long overdue. We were all going kind of desperate watching Ted constantly struggle to do what he thought was the right thing, rather than what was right for him. Then you came along, and God, it’s rattled him! Merlin’s dog, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ted lose it so badly over anyone!” Al chuckled unexpectedly, and I could just hug him for the quiet encouragement his words gave me.

“He must have imagined falling for another man, but I bet he never imagined holding hands with one out in the open. Next to that, he needs to work his head around the scary concept of falling for someone he barely knows, because he’s well-aware how obsessively he loves when he does. It would tear him to bits if he thought you were the one and he turned out to be wrong. But nothing you say or do can make him walk that path any faster. He needs to decide if he’s willing to take the risk by himself – and Merlin, Scorp, if you love yourself one bit, make him say it. It’ll do him and you good to hear him say the words. Don’t go for anything less.”

“I see… Are you telling me my only options are to wait to see if he’s willing to commit fully – or walk away?” I asked him, my voice barely audible and my heart trembling with anguish.

He nodded. “There’s no halfway for Ted. Never was. Once he’s on board, he always gives his all. And you shouldn’t settle for less.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” I told him, my head so full with swirling thoughts I thought it might explode. “I think I’d like to lie down now. There’s a big evening in front of us in a couple of hours, right?”

“Right.” He smiled. “Looks like there’s a lot at stake tonight.”

Merlin, yes. No one knew that better than I did.

Of course, I didn’t get any rest. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I did doze away from pure exhaustion, but my dreams were so haunting, so full of Ted closing his arms around me just to disappear into a mist of my confused dreams, that I woke up with a barely muffled scream, sweat-drenched, feeling on edge and filled to the brim with a miserable sort of nervous energy that desperately needed an outlet. After that I didn’t bother with trying to sleep any longer. I just took a shower – another unexpected amenity of my very own dressing room – and I got ready for the show.

I like combining the Muggle and wizarding fashion. The feeling of leather on my skin is kind of priceless – the Muggles sure got that bit right! – but the knee-length jacket still makes me look more of a wizard than a Muggle. Sometimes, I would wear my long white fur coat instead of a jacket, just because it’s stylish and because I’m always so damn cold. Hugo calls this my _“lost prince”_ outfit, and I sort of like that description. But I’d already made my pick for the show. I donned a tailor-made velvet jacket for the night, violet-blue with tiny diamonds woven into it making it look like the night sky. I applied some make up just because I’m so pale and I would look like a ghost underneath the strong lights if I didn’t.

And now I’m waiting.

I’m thinking of Ted and how complicated everything is. I’m thinking of where my life is headed to after tonight and how much of it depends on me being able to do something I’ve never done before… something I just _thought_ I could do because I love it so. And that’s when the panic creeps in. James told us that the show was sold out earlier. That’s like – what? – ten, twenty thousand visitors? As I’m sitting here, brooding, getting more nervous by the moment, all that vast space is getting filled with people. Lots and lots of people. More people than I ever saw in my life. And that thought almost makes me sick right there and then.

I’m honestly pondering if I should do a runner. I don’t think I’m up to it… to any of it. I’m not up to standing up there, feeling all alone and exposed in front of all these people staring at me – of course they would be, they will want to know if I can fill Hugo’s shoes – expecting me to do my best. No. Nope. Not for me.

I’m already headed towards the exit when the knock on the door comes. I stop dead in my tracks, wondering if it’s better to pretend I’m no longer in or…

“Scorpius… please.”

It’s Ted. He came to get me. And for this reason, and this reason alone, I open the door.

“I can’t do it,” I blurt out right away. “I can’t go out there, Ted, and… do this… the singing, the entertaining, charming the crowd. I can’t. You were right that very first day. Not every sissy willing to swing their hips at the crowd can do the job. And I can’t even do that.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, he just looks completely flabbergasted. But only for a moment. The next thing I know he pulls me into his arms so unexpectedly, it takes my breath away. As I disappear into the darkness of his warm, wonderfully comforting embrace, scented with a feeling of safety and love, tinged with a subtle edge of desire, I mewl helplessly, close my eyes and feel the things slowly falling to place.

“No, I wasn’t right, silly. I was a fool; jealous, judgemental and as wrong as a fool can be,” he whispers heavily. “I realised just how wrong the second you started singing. You are perfect, just like Hugo said you would be... but you’re not just perfect as a singer. You’re a wonderful young man, sweet, talented, affectionate and so bloody gorgeous you take my breath away. I guess I’m trying to say… you’re perfect for me, Scorp. I’ve been trying to say that the whole day, but I’m so fucking awkward about it…”

“Shut up, silly, you’re melting my make-up,” I’m whimpering, trying to hold back sobbing and doing a shit job of it. “You just said it now, didn’t you? God, look at me… I’m a mess. I’m supposed to go out there, looking my best, and perform… and…”

“Tear-streaked cheeks and such fire in your eyes… I reckon you’ve never looked better to me, love,” he says quietly, and tilts my head up to deliver the softest, sweetest kiss straight onto my yearning mouth.

The moment our lips connect I nearly melt to the floor. I’m seeing rainbows and stars and I only want… I want more. If he lets go of me again, my heart is just going to shatter. I’ll never be the same again.

“Don’t let go,” I gasp.

But when our kiss suddenly tastes salty, I open my eyes. His cheeks are wet and his eyes are a shocking blue.

“Why blue?” I whisper.

He just shakes his head before he replies, sounding desperate. “I made you sad, didn’t I, the idiot that I am. You’re the most precious thing ever, and I made you sad. I was so afraid I was going to screw this up… and here I am, screwing it up. Forgive me? I really, really want this… _us_ to last.”

My heart just soars. I kiss him so hard, I actually knock him backwards into the wall, and he says _“Ouch!”_ and chuckles at the same time. Getting drunk and dizzy on that soft, delicious mouth alone, I’m not ready to go anywhere anytime soon.

“About fucking time,” someone behind us grumbles, and when our kiss slowly, unwillingly dissolves, James Potter is standing behind us with his arms crossed across his chest, looking uncommonly pleased. “Uhm, I hate to interrupt, but we have a small issue of about, uh, let’s say thirty – or so – _thousand_ people waiting for the show, chanting our band’s name for the last ten minutes, and I would kind of hate to disappoint them. We might be getting dead rats in the owl mail – rather than lace panties – for the rest of our lives if you’re not ready to get out there. So – are you ready?!”

_“Hell, yeah!”_

Believe it or not, that was me.

I’m not walking, I’m practically _flying_ towards the stage because I’m so elated it barely feels as if my feet are touching the ground. I stop just before the entrance to the stage, because I need a moment to exhale all the overload of excitement and get some grip on myself if I’m to do the job right.

But almost immediately, Ted’s arm slides behind my waist, hugging me from behind, and he whispers in my ear: “You’re perfect, Scorpius, remember that. You’re already perfect to me. Now go out and show the rest of them how fucking fantastic you are. I’ll be counting the minutes before we’re alone again, love.”

Try to stop me. _Just fucking try it._

I push the stage door open and I walk out there like I own it. The stage is in complete darkness because that’s how our show starts, and no one can see us arrive. The only light is a stripe of tiny red and yellow dots charmed to the edge of the stage, and a small million of lights emanating from the tips of wands of several thousand people waiting for us out there. They look like a forest of fireflies, and I’m not prepared for how beautiful the sight is.

And then Al’s guitar makes the first lonely chord come to life, and the place instantly erupt with ear-piercing screams. Fuuuuck! I’m going to have to be loud to top that!

 

_“Do you remember the purple morning_

_The silver edge of dawn around a night of longing?_

_Do you remember my arms around you_

_Burning desire in the flames of Fiendfyre?_

_Coming back for more,_

_For more..._

_I keep coming back for more_

_It’s not enough – I’m coming back for more...”_

 

Merlin… hell… this is intense! The crowd knows every word, chanting along loudly as one, and I never knew it was going to give me such a boost! It’s one of The Weazaster’s most popular songs, the one that brought them fame before anyone saw their faces, and I instinctively know that if I get this right, I’m going to sell myself to them good and proper.

And tonight… tonight I just can’t fail. The lights are gradually becoming brighter throughout the song, and though they’re still fairly dimmed, I can still see the absolutely _massive_ crowd gathered in the arena. But it no longer bothers me. I’m running along the stage like the wind, pausing only to sing the chorus, and you can’t stop me. I’m loving this. Seriously. I’d never believe you if you told me how much I enjoy the energy coming from such an enormous crowd that seems mesmerised by our performance. So, I use the part where Al’s solo, a bit lengthy for this occasion, has the people clapping their hands to the rhythm, and decide it’s now or never: I’m going to throw it all – and myself – to the dogs and talk to the people.

“Welcome to the Holyhead Harpies’ Seasonal Opening – how are you doing tonight, witches and wizards?!”

I’m met by a deafening cheer of voices from the crowd – and I guess that’s a good sign!

“We’re The Weazaster – as you might have guessed – and we’re _crazy-_ excited to be here with you tonight. Are you excited?!”

Another wave of ear-piercing shrieks, and some woman in the front row – Merlin’s dog! – reveals her bust to me without any shame whatsoever, all the while screaming like mad. Ugh…

“Watch it,” Ted suddenly whispers in my ear from behind. “Don’t you go and develop any unhealthy appetites.”

“As long as there’s no one’s dick hanging out…” I whisper back, and I just can’t stop smiling at him like a lunatic, “...I think you and I are safe.”

And then I’m nearly knocked backward because just like that, Ted Lupin leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. It’s just an innocent-looking peck, but it still makes the crowd go crazy with catcalls, clapping and howls of shock and approval.

 

_“And that’s why I keep coming back for more!”_

 

I’m a lucky bastard – the end of Al’s solo just happened to coincide with Ted’s kiss, and my only comment to what Ted did is to sing that one line of the song that seems to fit perfectly. But I can’t stop myself from smiling like the second sun, and I guess it’s not very hard to imagine for anyone watching that there’s more than meets the eye between us. And I… I’m just on fire.

As soon as the song ends, I raise my hands high in the sky against the loud applause, and I shout at the crowd: “Witches and wizards – _the Weazaster_!!! Fucking best band on the planet! Are you, lucky bastards, ready for more?!”

Jamie doesn’t even wait for the ear-piercing confirmation coming from the crowd but he immediately launches into another song, a mean little piece about an explosive relationship which just happens to sound strangely _familiar_ every time I hear it – but don’t tell my father that! And because Jamie is one tireless beast, this song is directly followed by another dark, heavy piece of being stranded by life that ends on a lovely, hopeful note. It’s called “Breathe” and it’s a bitch to do right because one really needs to give it all to convey all those different emotions, so it leaves me momentarily drained and desperate for a bit of a break.

There is a giant projection of the picture of stage on top of our heads and another at the centre of the arena – a brilliant Muggle idea executed with the help of a wicked magic spell – and when I look up now, my face is right at the middle of it. It’s… awkward to see oneself like this, but I must say the sight is not entirely disappointing. I am, of course, very pale, but the streak of my tears that melted some of my eye make-up gave me a haunted, dark look Hugo would probably call “badass”. But the glitter on top of my eyelids is still there and the result is not… it’s… I’m kind of ethereal, and my hair, floating around me like a veil in a breeze doesn’t do anything to ruin the impression.

This is my moment and I’ve got to ride it. Time to introduce the band… and myself.

“Have you got enough already?! No? Gosh, lady in the first row… that’s... impressive. I get it. No enough! My oh my, you sure are one greedy crowd – and hard to please! Now, are you anxious to know who’s the talented bunch entertaining you tonight? I bet you are! First and foremost, sitting on top of the stage like the god of thunder, the one and only James Potter! Jamie, show ’em hell!”

And James does. He gifts them with a couple of minutes of such crazy-arse drum solo that it leaves everyone half-deaf and screaming for more.

“More? Oh, I’ve got more for you! On my right, the muse and the lyrical-prodigy of the band, Albus Severus Potter, making the two great wizards he’s named after proud beyond their graves! Hey, Al, how about some mean guitar licks?”

Now, you gotta know Al _loathes_ his full name mentioned, but the fact that he only rolls his eyes at me, shaking his head and grinning madly, tells me he’s way too high on the incredible once-in-a-lifetime mood of this magical evening to care. He launches into a breath-taking solo, and in spite of his young age, he’s such an accomplished musician he’s an absolute joy to listen to. Everyone just kind of forgets about the time while he’s at it.

But when he’s done Ted is by my side, his hair a mixture of blue and fiery-red, and his eyes that delicious amber colour once again. I swear he smells of pure undiluted sex to me from three feet away, and I can barely tear my eyes away from him.

“Teddy Lupin…” I try but I’m kind of lost for words and my mind is suddenly such a blissful, colourful blur that nothing comes to mind.

“Ted… Ted’s my favourite…” I breathe out like I’m made of stupid, but it seems like I no longer care about the world around me. All I want to do is to tell him how he makes me feel… even if it’s in front of thirty thousand people.

“He’s my…”

“Boyfriend,” he finishes softly, purposefully leaning forward so his words are caught by a microphone, and the crowd of thirty thousand people hears what he has to say. “I’m his boyfriend… and I play bass guitar around here a little. I’m so proud of you, baby...”

The arena erupts in an absolute cacophony of applause and hysterical shrieks, but I no longer register anything other than a pair of warm hands cupping my face, and Ted kissing me on the mouth, good and proper.

“So proud of you…” he whispers into our mind-melting, knee-buckling kiss, and for a moment there, the world around us simply disappears.

“Thank you for coming into my life and knocking me off my feet, precious,” he says quietly, when our kiss reluctantly dissolves, but he’s still leaning with his forehead against mine, as if he’s not willing to let go. “Thank you for this magical night, thank you for a chance to love you.”

_OhmyfuckingGod_ , he said it! He said the words! I’m just standing there, rooted to the ground, staring into those beautiful, predatory eyes, and repeating _“Love you…”_ like a love-smitten idiot that I am. And as the world around me gradually comes to focus, my heart slowly regains its heartbeat, and I find myself in a complete chaos of thirty thousand people screaming in delight. God, that’s just… I have no words for that.

But I’ve got one last thing to do, one last introduction to make.

“And now I’m the only one left you know nothing about. Or so I’d like to think. You see, I don’t read The Prophet.” I shrug, and the crowd giggles and some even boo. “You might have figured out this part all by yourself: I’m Scorpius Malfoy… and I’m kind of new around here. But that doesn’t mean I can’t spot a good crowd when I see one. And you – you’re _the best_ crowd in the entire world… and I absolutely fucking _love_ you to bits!”

And just when I thought the cheering and the shrieking could not get any louder… Merlin… they’re really at it now! The way this is going I should definitely consider some kind of muffling charm for my ears if I’m going to keep doing this – the place sounds like someone put a mean _Sonorous_ on it!

But in that moment the image of the stage disappears from the projections and it’s replaced by another image. The one of my father. Doing, what my father likes to do best these days, namely, kissing Ron Weasley stupid. Oh, dear Merlin’s oversized balls… Well, I can't be the more embarrassing of the two, I've got to do something!

“Oh, look, another Malfoy! Caught _in flagrante_ , it seems. Merlin… now, this is mortifying. Oi, Dad, would you quit kissing your husband for a second so I can introduce you to the crowd? There you go, Dad, I knew you could do it.”

The expression on my father’s face is utterly priceless once he realises he’s at the very focus of the projecting charm, and I honestly don’t know if I ever saw my esteemed parent this flabbergasted. _Totally worth it_. Remind me to thank Ronald for his part in the experience. The aforementioned father’s partner in crime – and life – looks about as red in the face as they come, but once he realises that there’s no getting away from the public focus, he shrugs, smiles goofily, and scoops my father back into his arms to resume their previous activity. Oh, bloody hell! Those two horny fossils sure know how to steal the show!

But then there’s a collective gasp when the picture suddenly shifts to the right and the one face that can absolutely stun anyone in the wizarding world breathless floats into the picture.

“Oh, man,” Al groans. “Dad. He showed up.”

But I can tell from the tone of his voice that his complaint is half-hearted, and I only have to look at him, completely focused on his dad, to be able to tell how proud and happy Albus Potter is to have his legendary father present at the best and most important gig of his young life.

And really, there he is. The man himself. Harry Potter. Notoriously reclusive, and avoiding the limelight for the past thirty years, the wiry black-haired man with hypnotising green eyes is standing there, in the spotlight for once, applauding to his sons with the rest of them. He still looks incredible in spite of his years. He’s as fit as a twenty-year-old, but there’s an aura of subtle power around him that can take one’s breath away, and it’s only a tiny bit mellowed by a shy, beautiful smile on his handsome face. But as the spotlight around him expands, engulfing more of the surrounding crowd, I notice he’s not alone.

Quietly, as if he was not at all important, Hugo is standing by his side, their arms barely touching, but the blissful light emanating from those mesmerising blue eyes makes his stunning face glow softly – and immediately gives him away. And just like that I know. Not _“some undeserving, substandard fool”_ indeed. Oh, God, me and my choice of words! I’ve been such a moron.

No wonder Hugo’s been shielding his love-life like that. This… is super complicated, and my heart sinks a little for him. I wonder if they’ll ever be able to be together… kiss like my dad and his Ron do… be themselves. Surely Harry must be obsessively protective about his privacy, but still…

Or perhaps... _not_. Because in that moment Harry Potter seems to notice their faces in the focus of everyone, and smiles – just before he does the unthinkable. He turns towards Hugo, and the way he tilts his head is the only warning poor Hugh gets. In the next moment Harry’s hands are in that flaming, silken hair, and he pulls down Hugo into a kiss so passionate, and so undoubtedly romantic, the crowd goes absolutely quiet. Because you see, Harry Potter is a badass like that. He can stun a crowd of thirty thousand people into silence with nothing but a kiss. God, they look good together… and Hugh… oh, my... he’s simply glowing!

“And this is for all of you out there, loving someone you probably shouldn’t have, but you know… sometimes you just can’t help yourself,” I tell the crowd quietly, and give Al a nod to tell him what to do.

Al just whispers _“Fucking Dad”_ in a shaky voice before he dives into the new song, but his eyes, so alike the green jewels of his father, seem suspiciously moisty. I guess his dad did steal the show after all, but somehow, I feel he doesn’t mind.

 

_“I lose control because of you babe_

_I lose control when you look at me like this_

_There's something in your eyes that is saying tonight_

_I'm not a child anymore, life has opened the door_

_To a new exciting life…”_

 

The crowd is already singing louder than I am when I go into the second part of the song, and Ted is suddenly near me, smiling in that shy, sexy way he has, and looking good enough to eat.

 

_“I lose control when I'm close to you babe_

_I lose control don't look at me like this_

_There's something in your eyes, is this love at first sight_

_Like a flower that grows, life just wants you to know_

_All the secrets of life…”_

 

_“I lose control,”_ Ted leans forward to whisper the words of the chorus into my ear. “My favourite.”

And the way he presses another quick, sweet little kiss just under my ear, making me shiver and making the happiness bubble inside me, it feels like more than just words. It feels like we were meant to be. And I can tell him that… with our favourite song.

 

_“It's all written down in your lifelines_

_It's written down inside your heart_

_You and I just have a dream_

_To find our love a place, where we can hide away_

_You and I were just made_

_To love each other now, forever and a day…”_

 

~ o ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand this is it for now! Jesus, let me tell you - it's been murder! I merely did it as a present to a dear friend of mine - and as a bit of a challenge on the side - but I struggled with it so badly that I'm afraid it shows. Next story I do is going to have a Weasley in it, LOL, my soul needs therapy! :) Thanks for reading to all of you that managed to make it so far - and sorry if it fell short of your expectations. Still friends? ;)


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